Don't Let Me Wait Too Long
by FarawayZephyr
Summary: When Sandra Baxter accidentally meets the Fab Four on a train ride to start her new life, she ends up getting in way over her head with the 'new' part. How will she respond to being thrown into a world of concerts, publicity, drama, and love? Hiatus
1. Ticket to Ride

**Chapter One:**

**Ticket to Ride**

The afternoon train was set to leave from Liverpool as it did everyday. The station was its usual self; busy, cramped, and yet uneventful. Though, it was joy to many to see the smile on a small child's face, who was going to be riding for the first time in there lives, but there was always that one who held onto their mother's leg in fear. The smells, the sights, and the sounds could all be a lot for a child to take in.

A girl held her mother's hand, as she walked as close as possible to her side. Although she was assured that there was nothing to be afraid of many times, it would not be enough to comfort her. A trip to Grandmother's house was usually only taken by car, never by this strange machine with so many people. Everything was just so unusual.

Though, seeing as the young girl had no say in the matter, she did try to stay brave. Or in turn, she would have to face the torment from her older brother the whole ride.

Michael was only nine at the time, four years older than his kid sister. He also wasn't afraid to deny the fact that they were related, though it was easy to tell that they were. She had the same brown hair and the same dark blue eyes as him, as well as the same button nose according to their mother. It was still the fact that he came first that was bothering him. He would always take it as she had just come along to purposely copy him.

He knew he had to live with his sister for the rest of his childhood, but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to wish she had never been there. He had to have some source of fun even if he wasn't an only child anymore.

Boarding the train for the first time was an unforgettable experience. So many people could be seen inside the small rooms next to each other. The small girl still held her mother's hand, but let go only for a second to give a slight wave to an old woman who had given her a smile. Moving along to their seats, she lit up when a man come in to punch her family's tickets. It made it even better when her mother said she could string it with yarn to make a necklace so she would never lose it.

Now, in her twenty's, Sandra Baxter, still had that first ticket stashed away in a book of childhood memories. But she also couldn't look back and tell you why she was so afraid of the trains. It could have been the fact that it was so loud, or maybe all of the different people that ended up surrounding her. Their unfamiliar faces and glances could have scared her as a child, as it could scare even some adults now a days.

The young women figured that this had to be at least her fiftieth time in the station. She would always steal a glance at anyone she found interesting in the slightest. So many different people could be found. Sandra wondered what different stories their minds held, as well as their destinations. Different people intrigued her, but she didn't completely understand why. Maybe it was the fact that in her head she was always trying to come up with different personalities for characters and different adventures for them to go on.

Unfortunately, there were always those people who could remind her of the cruel fact that plenty of people out in the world were no good.

Hearing a blaring horn, Sandra was pulled out her thoughts. She picked up her two bags of luggage and spotted her ride. Cramped along side plenty of other passengers, she wanted to quickly get out of everyone's way. She found an empty compartment not that far down to sit in and put her suitcases in the rack above her head. Originally, she felt like she didn't pack all that much, but she realized that she did once she had to use more effort than she expected to lift them above her head. Pulling a book to read out of her bag, and taking her coat off, she made herself comfortable.

The seats on both sides were a deep maroon color and the artificial velvet covering, which Sandra had expected to be smooth, was a bit rough. She could only assume it was just because of the age of them. Giving it another look over, she thought about how there was room for around five more people. A few things also happened to catch her eye. A small radio was sitting in the spot in front of her, and a few simple black suitcases sat on the floor near the door and in the rack. She couldn't help but mentally curse herself for not noticing any of these things before. Some other people must have been seated in here before her.

Sitting back and trying to get comfortable (and finding a single drum stick poking at her foot) she went on to open up her book. Taking out the little piece of paper she was substituting as a bookmark, she began to read.

It didn't seem that long after she started that there was a large thump and the train stated to pull out of the station. This took Sandra's thoughts out of her book and onto the world around her. This is finally it, she thought. She was no longer at home, and she didn't know when she would be back. Her cousin's flat in London awaited. Her clothing was packed up, as well as some of the items she could never bare to part with, and she was ready to start her new life. She realized that it would mean getting a job, paying for her share of the rent, making all of her own meals, and plenty of other things, but she knew at her age it was about time.

Her vision of everything and how this so called 'New Life' would turn out was, well, she hoped it would be perfect. And after all, who says it wouldn't be? She just hated how things would never turn out the way she planned.

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><p><em>Hello every out there who as stumbled across my new story! C: Just here to try my hand at a Beatles fanfiction and hopefully it fits in nicely out here among the rest. The chapter is a little introduction to my character, Sandra, who I hope you like so far. I've been working hard! It's paying off I think! These first two chapters are roughly based off of the Hard Day's Night movie, and the later ones will be semi-historically accurate.<em>

_So please give me a review telling me what you think. If you don't, that's okay too! I'm not going to hunt you down for it! …maybe. I'll try to update once a week or so, but warning you in advance, I'm not the most punctual person in the world._

_Until next time!~_


	2. How Long Must I Dream?

**Chapter Two:**

**How Long Must I Dream?**

_1963_**  
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So many abstract thoughts were floating through her mind. Colors and clouds flew inside her head and there was absolutely nothing she could do to control it, though she had no real objections to it. Sandra felt like dreaming was one of the closest things to magic there was. Half the time she couldn't realize she was in one until she woke up. That was what was happening at this moment. While unknowingly spending the time she had thought to be reading, she currently felt herself to be lying in a dark colored field of grass, watching the clouds of blues and purples. It was peaceful, and that was simply enough.

Around here was only one building. It was a barn of red that she had once seen in a jigsaw puzzle so many year ago. And just as the same puzzle had, there were chocolate brown horses grazing outside. Everything was peaceful, which has more than she could ask for. The surreal colors of the flora didn't strike her as odd in the least, neither did the fact that that might have been a fish and not a bird in the sky. This was, after all, just a dream.

But it wasn't long though until the calm nature of her dream was changed in an instant. A loud blast could be heard in the distance. Upon the young woman looking up, the clouds seemed to be falling to the ground below. A horrible since of losing any grip at all she had on the ground below her was lost. Everything starting turning darker and darker, but then turned into a blast of light. It only took a matter of seconds later Sandra was exposed to the realization that she was still sitting by herself in the same compartment she had been in when she first boarded. Nothing had changed; she had only lost her focus. And she felt that she had also slightly gained a head ache.

Sandra's body was spread out farther than it had been before across the seats. Her head still rested on the arm of the seat and she could only imagine how wrinkled her clothes were now. Her book rested itself across her chest, being opened to a random page. The girl knew it would take a bit to find the last page that she had read before drifting off to sleep.

She was asleep! That was something that she had just fully understood. She didn't know how long she had been out, or if she could have missed her stopped. She had no clue where they were currently at. And even though she knew that she needed to sit back up and figure out where the train was at she still felt too exhausted to do anything.

She felt so strange in her odd daze, but Sandra knew that she needed to sit up, and wake up completely too. She rubbed her forehead in attempt to shake off the feeling, it helped a bit. Pushing herself up and straightening her skirt out, she regained her posture to the best that she could.

Once she found herself sitting back in her seat properly, Sandra glanced out of the window in the compartment. There were buildings a plenty. She had expected to see trees and a lovely countryside. There would be farms, animals, and a beautiful scene painted out of just nature. If not that, she had oddly enough thought of how there my be a land of bright and obscure colors like in her dream. But she knew better than this. It was just simply the city or small town she had been through so many times. She could faintly make out the people that walked from shop to shop.

Suddenly, the noise popped into her head once again. It was the thing that must have been a gun shot or glass breaking in her dream. Except, that couldn't have been it at all. Sandra glanced around the small room, noting that everything seemed to be in the same place as it was before. She loosened up where she sat. That was just a dream, no need to take it so seriously. Taking a second to yawn, the door caught her eye.

A light taping made itself clear from the outside of the glass (or plastic she wasn't entirely sure.) Two men with large grins on their faces stood just far enough away that Sandra couldn't get a well enough look at them. Unsure of how to react to this, a small wave and a smile were all Sandra could offer, even if it wasn't a lot.

The door had not long after been opened and the two young men welcomed themselves into the compartment.

"Hello, hello, hello," one chimed, sitting down on Sandra's left. The window was on her other side. He continued, "Wandered into our neck of the woods now have you?"

"Well I-," Sandra tried to explain the situation, how she didn't know someone had already been there, despite the fact that she didn't know if this man had made it a question or a statement. Before she could finish thought, the other one had cut her off. That was also when she noticed two more men had made there way into the compartment. She could smell coffee come in with one of them.

"Don't go hogging the bird the second we get in here Johnny," the one who cut her off said with a smile while putting another bag into the luggage rack. Something about him looked oddly familiar to Sandra, as did the same when she took a few glances at the other three. For this one it was his eyes, but there was something different for each of the other ones.

The man sitting next to her had the lightest hair of the group, who all had brown, long mop tops. He had a long narrow nose and slightly reminded the girl of a bird, aside from his fuller face. He had a smirk and it seemed to grow as he sneakily inched his way closer to her. It made her uncomfortable, this man she didn't know being this close, but she didn't know and had no time to react.

The second, who had seemed the most familiar, had a smaller face and eyes that could make anyone think he was sad or pouting. It was obvious to tell that it was just how he looked all the time though because of the smile he showed. His hair was the darkest, nearly black, and the shortest. He, like all the others, wore a simple black tie and dress clothes that fit their bodies snugly. Sandra didn't notice how much she was studying the boys, but this one picked up on it.

"Nice view, don't you think love?" he had asked, putting in a quick wink as he did.

"Sure is," Sandra joked, not thinking. She flashed a smile, but inwardly hoped that wasn't a bad thing to say as it was too late to take it back. It would make it less awkward for her, she hoped. Above all though, she could admit to staring at him. He looked extremely familiar, and it wasn't a _terrible _sight either. He let out a chuckled and squeezed himself between Sandra and the one he called "Johnny."

Trying to make enough room, Sandra scooted herself over as much as she could, but it made little difference. When this didn't work, she simply stood up, and moved back to the other side of the bench. The door was now on her left and "Johnny" on her right. Sitting here snapped her attention to the other two men sitting across from her.

One of the two sat up straight and tall, with his right foot over to his left knee. His hair was dark brown and slightly longer than the others'. From where she sat his eyes looked a dark grey and he seemed to have high cheek bones from the shadows she saw on his face. He held a small cup of coffee in his hand, occasionally taking a sip of it. He was the only one sitting quietly and he seemed to take in the scene that was playing in front of him.

The last of the group sat back relaxed in his seat, until he spotted a single drum stick poking out from under Sandra's seat and practically dove to the ground for it. Picking it up and dusting himself off, he gave a tip of his hat (even though he wasn't wearing one) to Sandra, and then returned to his seat. She noted that he had eyes like a puppy, a larger then average nose, and was a tad smaller than the rest. With the now pair of drum sticks next to him, Sandra had to assume he was a drummer. Why else would he carry around something like that? That also led her to the thought that he was possibly in a band, as were the rest of these boys. An even bigger and grander thought entered her mind. A not so simple conclusion to where she had known them from.

These nicely dressed young men were the one and only currently famous band from Liverpool. These four were undoubtedly the Beatles.

Sandra was taken back. How did she not realize it sooner, she wondered. Possibly because there was no way this could happen, and her mind wouldn't let her believe it. The other reason, she just realized, might have been that she still had her reading glasses on, and things this close turned out a bit blurred. Taking her glasses off, she knew she was right, and apparently it showed on her face. She looked to the man beside her and tried to say the right words without screaming with joy. John, who she knew to be for sure now, simply lifted his fingers to his lips in a means to '_Ssshh' _her.

The girl didn't say a word just as he wanted her to, but she was still in awe. So many times before, Sandra's pleasant shopping trips and get togethers with her girl friends had been interrupted by the smallest bit of Beatlemania related news. Each of her friends' had a favorite that they had vowed to marry one day, if only just for good fun and jokes. Though a bit outrageous at times, it was a normal thing and Sandra didn't mind talking about them. Well, she _secretly _didn't mind talking about them.

She would normally take it upon herself to try and keep the other girls' heads out of the clouds and back on Earth. It would be a hassle when the little group was supposed to be working and were instead spending their time thinking of fantasy lives. Sandra had to try and be the realist or else no one else would.

But now she found nothing about today to be realistic. She was possibly still dreaming despite how awake and real this felt to her. They were real and sitting in the same compartment as she was, right in front and beside her. Recomposing herself, she saw how the four were trying their best to keep back their laughs. She knew it really must have been a sight to see, if they already didn't see it often.

"I-I should go, shouldn't I?" Sandra asked awkwardly, calming herself. It wasn't her place to stay here with these men. They were famous after all. She thought on how they probably were meant to keep that image. They were probably only supposed to give a simple autograph and not say another word. Sandra stood up and tried to gather her suitcases in a rush. She picked up her book, which had fallen beside her, and tucked it under her arm. With her other hand, she pulled on her bag that was up in the luggage rack. It was only getting more and more stuck as she tugged on it.

"No need at all," the one she recognized as the drummer, Ringo Starr, told her. She noticed him standing up behind her and then pushing her bags back up on the rack, out of Sandra's reach. The girl didn't know how to react until John pulled her back down into her spot.

"Come on now," John told her, "it's not every day a girl like you gets to spend time with a handsome bunch of lads like us."

"Yeah," the last one, George, added in, "and it's not every day that we get to spend time with a girl like yourself."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Six reviews for just the little first chapter! I've never had this kind of thing happen before! I want to thank you all so much for it! Sending you all the love that the internet has to handle! And even if you didn't review, thank you for the story alerts, follows, and just taking the time to read this in general.<em>

_And since you all seemed pretty excited for me to update, here you are with the next chapter. I hope it's not a downfall from the first :\ But hey, Sandra got to meet our boys, and that's good! (Last few lines where so out of character haha But they are real people, who knows what they're going to say.)_

_Once more, thank you so much. It truly means so much. Peace out for now~  
><em>


	3. You Know What to Do

**Chapter Three:**

**You Know What to Do**

Their group must have been the loudest in the train. Every few moments a burst of laughter would erupt from their compartment. Anytime someone would pass by, the five of them would receive another hard stare. Though it was easy for the boys when they could simply respond by making a goofy face or cross-eyed look at the person outside.

Sandra had never once before contemplated how humorous the four of them could be. In her eyes, before meeting them like this, the Beatles were nothing more than pretty boys who wrote music for a living. There was no way she could have seen them differently. That was simply their image to the public. Four fabulous singers and musicians from England who had stolen the hearts of practically every girl she knew.

Their songs were kind of empty when it came to the words, Sandra thought. She didn't want to seem harsh, but that was just how she felt. Most consisted of being in love with a girl either just because she was pretty when she danced or because he wanted to hold her. That all didn't mean much to Sandra. But all at the same time she remembered the moments she found herself singing or dancing along to one of their fresh songs anytime one would be played. She felt like a complete hypocrite.

This was not to be said about all of their songs. There were still so many she loved with all of her heart. If there were not, she wouldn't call herself a fan. The beautifully harmonies, amazing tap-your-foot-to beats, powerful guitar playing. In the end, the positives did tend to out way the negatives.

A lot of the songs were about love. Sandra never felt like she had been in love before, and she assumed that was the reason some of the songs did not appeal to her. She had been with people before and even had very long lasting and meaningful relationships with the men she was with, but she had never really been in love. She knew of things like extreme admiration for the person she was with, or feelings that mimicked a giddy school girl, but that was really the extent of it. Her brain made sure to tell her the truth about it all in the end.

Sandra knew she had been carrying on drawn out and completely enjoyable conversations with the four handsome men around her. But that was all they were, 'handsome.' She still didn't know what kind of people they truly were. Was this confident and flirtatious front that they all had really them?

"Watcha' thinking about?" George spoke up and asked. The girl jumped out of her thoughts that the calm of the laughter had put her into. She looked up and tried to find an answer.

"Just some stuff," Sandra rolled off her tongue. She was having trouble finding the words. "My life, meeting you lot, anything else that crosses my mind…"

"I forgot to ask," said Paul, pointing to the various suitcases spread along the rack, "where are you heading? You've got a lot of stuff for just a little trip."

"Well, the whole story is probably one for another day," said Sandra, "but I'm going to London to live with my cousin for a bit. When I finally get a job for some money, and maybe get the chance to go back to school, then I'll be able to get a place of my own." Sandra looked on to see the boys' faces, which had lost their joker smiles and were now plain and nodding. She felt stupid now for just rambling on her plans for life to them.

"Why don't you just live in the moment? You don't need to try and plan _everything_ out that much," John put his two-cents in. He had turned and was looking her straight in the eye. She tried not to notice his gaze and turn away, but it was hard for her.

"I like having it all laid out in front of me. It let's me know what I want to do with life and help me actually do it," Sandra explained to him. This was how she went about trying to achieve things for herself. Her mother was always the same exact way. She had lists for every occasion and they never seemed to fail her. "It's just the way I was taught."

"But if you have everything listed out how are you going to handle anything out of the ordinary happening to you?" John simply came back. Was he arguing his views on the matter, or was he just trying to see how the girl would react? She couldn't tell. It was probably a different reason entirely, she though.

"I met the four of you out of the blue on a train today. That goes in the book of out of ordinary. And that goes to show I can handle things fine." Sandra could feel her voice rising a bit with each line she spoke, as was John's. This must have been the Lennon temper she had read about in magazines before, and apparently it was rubbing off on her.

"That doesn't mean-"

"Hey, don't worry about that many things. What, you're practically still a kid right? Enjoy it," said George, trying to calm down the uprising qualm.

Sandra thought over his statement. She wasn't exactly a kid anymore; at least she didn't think so. She went on to tell him, "Actually, I'm twenty-three. It's about time I grew up." Another roar of laughter bellowed in the room. The girl look over the group, confused over why they were laughing this time.

"Really? Same as John and me," said Ringo between his snickers. "Thought you must have had to be younger than that." Sandra laughed at this even more. She hadn't actually expected them to be that _young, _though she was never going to say that aloud.

"Who's the kid now, Harrison?" Paul burst out through his laugh and everyone joined in, aside from George obviously. He just looked at his friends with a hard stare and he furrowed his brow. "Oh come off it George, we're only having some fun."

"Yeah, only playing with you," Sandra said, leaning forward to pat George on the knee in comfort. George tried to hide his light grin, though the rest of them saw right through it. It made Sandra feel better about the teasing him. She didn't want to actually put forth to making him angry; she had no clue how that would turn out. Even if it might have been a little funny. Bringing herself back up, she once more looked out the window. Instead of the sites of a city like before, there were now green hills full of some sort of crop. Sandra wasn't sure what kind they were. Though they moved quite a bit, she had always lived in the city.

"Where are you four heading?" she asked, wondering how long they would be there on the train. She was having fun and didn't particularly want them to leave. This would be a story her friends would never believe. Sandra bet this had happened to a different girl before, the same exact way at random, and her friends never believed her either. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and she was using it up now.

Another thing suddenly hit her; this would be the last she would ever hear from them. Once they got off of the train and they each went their separate way, they would once more only become four lads she heard on her record player. She would have this short amount of memories thought, and that had to count for something.

"We're going down to Birmingham," Paul answered with a smile. "We've got ourselves another performance. Supposed to be a big one."

'Wow,' Sandra only mouthed. Another concert for them, out of the hundreds that they already could have had. She could just imagine it; the chaos, the heat, the noise, and the thousands of screaming fans. Sandra knew how it was from any of times she been to the concert of some other of her favorite singers from her teenage years.

"I guess we'll be getting off a while before you will," said George. He has right. The stop for Birmingham must have been coming up soon, and then the Beatles would head out and Sandra would have to spend the rest of her trip in silence. The fun would be over, but she didn't want to think on that. She tried to change the subject back to the music.

"What are you going to be playing?" she wondered aloud. Had they even written any new songs that she just hadn't heard lately? She had so much on her mind, and in the business of packing her clothes and preparing her things for moving didn't have time for any sort of recreational activities. This included listening to the radio and keeping up with new albums coming out. Nor did she have money for the latter.

"Same things we always play," John answered. He didn't seem all that enthused about it. "Whatever is good for dancing at this place that the birds like."

"Common, don't say it like that," Ringo told John. He was now using his drum sticks to play on the side of one of the wall, like he was practicing one of the songs already. "They're _your _songs after all, along with Paul's."

"Yeah I know, along with anything Martin thinks we would be good with," said John, "Just wanting something new is all."

"We'll get something out new soon enough, sure of it," Paul reassured him. The two of them were the renowned song writing duo of the band. Nearly everything was staring the two of them, with a few exceptions of course.

"Hey Sandra," said Paul, grabbing the girl's attention, "you listen to us right?"

"Oh, yes, I do," she answered honestly. She wasn't sure how deep in the topic Paul wanted her to be. She simply put, "I'm sure I'm not as big a fan as some girls, but I do really enjoy some of your music."

Sandra noticed the boys perk up at her saying that. John turned to face her and his normal smirk had returned.

"Who's your favorite?" John asked smugly. Sandra raised an eyebrow at him (whether she actually succeeded in raising it she didn't know though.) She didn't understand what he was getting at. He explained, "You know how it is, every girl has to pick a favorite. It's like a right of passage for you fans, isn't it?"

"I guess it is when you put it like that," Sandra answered calmly, but instantly got flustered with the question. "You're all human beings; it's not like going out and picking a plant for your garden or something!"

"Sure it is!" Paul laughed. "Bet all your friends had picked one of us. Now, who'd you pick?"

Sandra let out a sigh. This was another long explanation waiting to happen, but when the other two Beatles also began to jeer her on for an answer she calmed them and tried to explain. "Out of _my_ little group, I was the last to find out about _your_ group. So naturally, all the other girls had all picked out their favorites and were very protective over each of you. It was particularly you for most of them, Mr. McCartney." Paul threw in a wink at her here. "So when I found out who had who, and that one of you wasn't claimed by them, I ended up picking Ringo."

"So, I'm your favorite?" Ringo asked. His reaction was calm and nearly emotionless, something Sandra didn't expect. She thought there would be cheers or applause, like they would treat it like winning a prize.

"Yeah, you are," she said. She had tried not to be terribly loud about it, because technically she picked him because of default. Like she had mentioned before, she didn't feel right picking the best of them off of just appearances and some songs. Her mind just couldn't comprehend doing it.

"But, that's just because you had to?" said Ringo, "Not because of who I am as a wonderful person."

"What? No, absolutely not!" Sandra suddenly felt terrible. She cursed herself for saying anything in the first place. "You are my favorite, it was just a matter of circumstance that it became that way." She saw his mouth frown more and knew that she was just digging herself into a bigger hole. Though, she kept trying to make up for it. "Your drum playing is the best I've heard my entire life and you-you have amazing eyes…"

"What about me?" Paul cut in, but was easily ignored.

Ringo still had the face of a sad child as Sandra tried over and over to apologize. As she went on and on Ringo and the other boys found it harder and harder to keep there grins hidden. Eventually he almost doubled over in amusement.

"Come 'ead, he's only playing with you," George told her, like she had said to him earlier. She looked over in shock to see Ringo showing a large, toothy grin her way. She was almost frozen. The comfort from George barely helped; it only made her quiet for a moment. She had to spill out every positive thing there was about Ringo, and this was only just a joke.

"Ringo Starr, why did you do have to-" Sandra shouted at him. She was confused with a sense of frustration. There was no way to worm her way out of it because the hole she had dug was now a seemingly bottomless pit. "You made me feel terrible!" She let out a light 'huff' and was then quiet once more.

"Ringo, you should be one to take fans whenever you get them," said John to his band mate. He had taken out a lighter from his back pocket and a cigarette and began to smoke it. He offered it over to George who did the same.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ringo said, looking offended once more.

"You know what it means," John smirked. He took a long drag of the stick and then exhaled it, letting out a cloud of billowing, grey smoke. She looked over to George who was doing the exact same.

It seemed to make him even more calm, if that were possible. Sandra tried to subtly hold her breath for as long as she could, until it became to much for her. No one she knew smoked a day in their life, unless it was something they did behind closed doors.

Suddenly through the instant calm, a loud but still muffled voice came over the train, announcing that they would be pulling into station in Birmingham in just a few moments. In a rush the four boys stood up and grabbed their trunks and guitar cases from around the compartment. Sandra didn't understand why they were moving so fast. Her small time with them was now over, and from now on they would once more just return to The Beatles in her mind instead of Paul, John, George, and Ringo. From individuals here in the train to a group back in real life, where they would sing to every person out there instead of just talking to herself.

She was being melodramatic about it all and she knew it. Things would just go back to the planned schedule and return to normal, which would be fine. Life would go on like she had spent this train ride by herself and nothing changed. She knew John was right though, she wasn't going to handle this new situation well in the end after all.

"So you're just going to let us leave without saying a word?" Paul asked her as the train pulled to a screeching stop.

"No, of course not," Sandra answered, her voice going higher just a bit. What was she to say after all? She stood up to be on the same level as them now. "It was an absolute pleasure meeting you all. Best time on the train I've ever had in my life, without a doubt." She gave an awkward laugh. She was bad at goodbyes and always had been. And now, as she was standing, she felt like she would whenever she would walk guests to the door of her old home.

"_Our _pleasure, milady," John said with a posh accent, bowing in front of her. She in turn lifted her skirt a small bit and gave her best curtsy.

"All the best at your performance!" she said added in. The train had made a complete stop now and it was time. Two older men taped on the door, as to hurry the boys along. One pointed at his watch, and George nodded to him. Paul slowly began to open the door as all of them exchanged their waves goodbye.

"Come give us a listen one of these days," George told her, and Sandra promised she would. She didn't actually know if it were a promise she could keep or not, but she had always wanted to try.

The door was fully opened and the Beatles had shuffled out, following the two men who were waiting for them. As the left Sandra could hear their voices fainter and fainter.

"Who was she?" asked a voice she didn't recognize. It belonged to one of the men.

"Just some bird," said John.

"She was nice, lay off Johnny," said Paul

"She didn't scream at us like most of-" said George, but the rest she couldn't hear. The sound of other people's footsteps and the general noisiness of the station overpowered it. That was the end of her adventure here, and it was time to get right back on track. Sandra slowly sat herself back into her spot on the seat and pulled her book back out from before. She attempted to find her page back but she couldn't focus. The slip of paper she used as a bookmark was completely out of place. She closed the book up again and leaned back and sighed.

Trying to relax and calm herself from the experience she was just in, and the thumps of running got closer. The door opened once more and Sandra looked up. Ringo had return, still holding his suitcase in one wand and the drum sticks in another.

"The guys, and myself, were wondering," he said in a rush, "could we get your telephone number? In the case that we might be playing up in London around you, so we can let you know."

"Oh, sure thing!" Sandra shot up and pulled out her bookmark to write on. Ringo gave her a pen that he already had on hand, and she scribbled down the number to her cousin's house. She smiled as she handed it over to him. "Now hurry, or you'll be stuck on here for who knows how much longer."

Ringo flashed another toothy grin at her and hurried back out the door once more. She could hear him run down the walkway once more and within only a few minutes the train had started up again and started leaving the station. Sandra, now in here seat, felt much calmer. She was ready to wait out the rest of journey. She was now filled with positive thoughts about what might happen, and contemplations of if she would really receive a phone call at home from the Beatles.

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><p><em>It's that time again everyone, for another chapter! Hope you all enjoyed it, had much more actual conversing with the guys, so that's good right? Again, not sure how "in character" they all are, but I did my best. And that's what matters in the end.<em>

_Thanks a bunch to my reviewers, and a big shout out to The Nowhere Girl for completely making my day, week, month whatever with her review. It would mean a lot if _you _could drop my one telling me what you think_. _It only takes a few clicks of a button and some typing._

_ Oh, one more thing to add! I live in America, and I've only been on a train ride when I was four years old. This was all just brought up by research and stretching the truth. I really doubt there is a train that travels from Liverpool, to Birmingham, to London and all of the places in between...  
><em>

_ But anywho, see ya soon~_


	4. If I Needed Someone

_Hey there people of the world. New chapter here as always and I hope you are ready to read it. There is a lack of our Beatles this chapter, so sorry for that, but we are introduced to a new and wild character I hope you will like. Umm… I'm kind of scared I let you guys down with the last chapter… The traffic tells me there were lots of readers, but, one reviewer… Can I demand you give me reviews this time? I was trying to be nice! But I'll get mean if I must!_

_Oh one more thing! I've recently changed Sandra's last name (from Braun to Baxter) after I found out Braun is a German surname, and yeah, Sandra isn't German sooo… And as a little side note, I've been pronouncing Sandra's name Sahn-dra, and not SAN-dra (if that makes sense.) I'm sure you can say it however you like though._

_So as always, have a happy time reading!~_

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><p><strong>Chapter Four:<strong>

**If I Needed Someone**

Hissing to a stop, the train pulled into the London station a long while later. The amount of people compared to any place Sandra had ever been before was completely overwhelming. Part of her felt like it was possible to fill a whole town with all of the people it held. Whether they were passengers or workers, everyone there was in a hustle. They pushed around carts and pulled their luggage behind them. Some people stood by the tracks and waved to their loved ones as the train pulled away.

Sandra was trying to take in all of these things. She simply stood near the window and stared out into the abundance of people for the while that she could. Though when the ruckus of feet and the clatter of talking began to make itself known from down the walkways, then the girl knew it was near time to leave.

She pulled her trunks down from above her on the rack, zipped one open, and stuck her book inside. She had gotten to read quite a few more chapters in the time of waiting for her stop, once she had found her place that is. She also pulled off her glasses, folded them up, and put them in the pocket of her sweater. After letting her eyes adjust back for a slit second Sandra grabbed her things, which she was sure were much heavier than before. She carefully opened the door and was instantly crammed into the tight space that was packed with many other passengers who were wishing to get off. She glanced at many of them, finding most to be men in bowler hats who looked all business and no nonsense. She remained quite because honestly they intimidated her.

Inch by inch she made her way through the queue that formed while trying to avoid letting any of her trunks hitting another person. She would instantly apologize if they happened to bump into her. Luckily, that wouldn't happen that too often.

When she finally made her exit, she looked over the train one more time. She mentally said her adieus until next time to the lovely grey engine. She turned away from the tracks and began to look over the heads of the people for a way to make her leave. This was a bit hard for her. Compared to majority of people there were men who were a fair amount taller than her. She was an average height for a woman, at least she thought. Maybe only a bit shorter she hoped.

Weaving in and out of the crowd she found her way out at the other side of the station. The wind hit her at cool, brisk temperatures. She pulled her coat around herself tightly and thanked God that she had brought her heavier one along to wear. It would be winter very soon and then the cold weather would be constant for nearly four long months.

Sandra didn't like the cold weather in the slightest. The snow that came with it made everyday that much harder. People would have to trudge through the inches of thick cotton, getting their clothes wet and becoming ill so easily. It would require salting the ground, shoveling the pavements, and even the power outages if the weather was bad enough. She didn't mind the rain though. A bit of things being damp didn't bother her at all. It was just the cold part she had a hard time handling.

Glancing along the streets, which were now oddly empty of people but full of vehicles, she didn't see any car similar to her cousin's. Marian was meant to be there to pick Sandra up as soon as she got word the train was arriving. Standing in her place for a few minutes, getting colder by the second, Sandra decided she would have to walk. She once more thought of how lucky she must have been today, for it was only around a fifteen minute walk through the city to get there.

The girl was a bit afraid, who knew what kind of people would be here in the big city right outside of a train station? And walking that long in the cold would be an extremely difficult challenge. She had no other choice right now, Sandra thought, she had to do this before it got any worse. She mustered up her strength and courage and walked forward on the pavement. This was the right direction, she could remember from whenever they would come on to visit her aunt, uncle, and cousins on weekend trips. She knew this was the same old and chipped brick path they would always follow, but she didn't recognize the buildings.

Many of the stores and restaurants were replaced with newer models. They had fancier signs, brighter lights, were much larger in size. But by being larger it also meant they were cramped in between each other, with the walls nearly touching. Some of the pubs for families were now bars and club. Sandra found it easy to say that her cousin did not live on the best end of town. These same trends in businesses went on for a while but eventually faded into various flats and houses with trees here and there along the road.

Sandra's entire body was now shivering. Her legs were tired from walking and her arms soar from carrying the trunks along with her. She wondered if it was just her who was feeling this. Any other person who walked by her seemed perfectly content with the temperature, but she had came out of the stuffy, hot station just a few minutes ago, she didn't have anytime to adjust in the slightest. She set her things down for a sort break and leaned on the Gothic styled picket fence behind her. She noticed she was breathing harder than she thought; now vowing to get outside more when the weather warmed up.

She turned to face the fence now and draped her arms over it. The house was small and very quaint but had a large garden and uneven stone walkway to the front door directly in the center of it. She new the names of some of the plants in it. There was ivy that grew up the sides of the home, marigolds on the right as you would enter the yard, bluebells a little farther in, and small pots of pansies near the door. She found it to be a wonderful scene that she would paint, if she had any skills painting after all. Many of the flowers were beginning to shrivel now and there were hedges drying up and turning brown. She hoped they would all come back in spring for her to see again.

Picking up her things, Sandra knew she couldn't stop and sight see any longer. Her new home awaited, and hopefully some sort of heat within it.

It was soon that walking upon the brick-lain sidewalk Sandra had finally made it to her cousin's house. She checked the numbers of each house as she went, trying to match them with the number on the paper of directions she had made, to make sure she had the correct one for sure. It was a small building, like many of the others, that was made also of bricks that matched the walkway. There were many shades of red and brown among them, along with a white windows, shutters, and door. The house was cramped between many others in this neighborhood, and the house came right off of the sidewalk. There was no room for a yard, front or back, but Sandra wouldn't complain. She was being let to stay her for nearly free, and was completely thankful for what she could get.

She could see her cousin's car sitting on the side of the road with no intention of moving anytime soon. The girl set the trunk down out of her right hand and lightly knocked on the door. While waiting, she quickly then used it to rub her other arm and face to try and warm herself, and then used it to pull her hair out of her jacket, fix the curls on the bottom, and straighten out her bangs. In the few seconds after that she began to knock harder, she was becoming impatient with this. She bit at her lip nervously, and she could feel the sting of it becoming chapped. She knew Marian was home, why was she not answering?

But within the second of asking that, the door swung open. A woman stood in the doorway, pulling Sandra in in an instant. This woman was wearing a bathrobe on top of a short green dress. Her hair was nearly black as night but her eyes were a golden brown. She had a mass of makeup applied to her face, mainly on her nose and cheeks to cover some freckles that poked through. She wore an expression of shock and joy all in one, but was completely unprepared for anything Sandra could tell. Her hair was still damp and she held a towel tight around her neck.

"Hurry up," she said, rushing Sandra inside. Marian shook from the wisp of wind that blew into the house. "We don't need to have to rush you to the damn hospital the second you get here because you're diein' of hypothermia."

"Why weren't you there to pick me up?" Sandra spoke up, taking off her shoes and setting her trunks down on the tiled floor with a thunk. She could feel a chill on her feet through her socks until she moved onto the rug. She rubbed her hands together quickly hoping some of the friction would do her well. She closed the front door shut using her hip and noted how much her nose felt like it was going to fall clean off. After a few moments she hung her coat up on the hook left of the door, revealing her now wrinkled white blouse and tan skirt.

"Getting ready for work; they called me in early," Marian put simply. She shrugged her shoulders and gestured for Sandra to follow her through the house. She also told her to leave her things, they would get them later. "I got this new job, waitress at some club or another. I know it's not as great as my gigs dancing an' all, but it'll give me some extra cash to throw around."

Marian was a loud girl, and nearly the polar opposite of Sandra. She loved talking, being social, and all around anything she found to be fun. Sandra thought honestly to herself about how being a "dancer" was probably the perfect job for her cousin. She in no way meant it negatively, only as the truth.

A positive, Sandra figured, that there were many times than Marian could bring out her own wild side. Her spirit was one that could easily rub off on her cousin, as well as other people.

Time meant nothing to Marian. If she ever knew she was going to be late for something she would slow down even more, and use the time "wisely." Things didn't matter to her unless she was going to have a ball while doing them.

Having a fulfilling and successful life was not on her list. Any money Marian earned was spent on material things she would enjoy. They only lasted so long until she got bored of them and wanted something bigger and better. So much went into buying her car and her little trinkets that she would just barley be able to make payments on the house, gas, and electricity bills. She had taken up more jobs than a normal person could handle to try and make enough to make due. But it was simple to say she would quit them all at the drop of a hat if she could.

"The people I've met are pretty nice there, got invited to a few parties," Marian carried on, "They've got some cute lads every now and again. Well, that doesn't really matter much anymore, but it doesn't hurt to look. Can't get over how many sweet little lads like to show up at a place like that. Do you have one of your own yet Sandra?"

Marian was rattling on and on, her cockney voice seemed to echo through the house. The two had made their way into Marian's room, where she was sitting in front of her vanity, applying more makeup. Sandra thought on how she might as well have dressed like a rodeo clown for that much on her face. Her intent staring made her already forget she been asked a question.

"Guess I'll take the silence as a no," said Marian. She didn't bother to look up and only glanced from her refection in the mirror to whatever powder she was currently holding in her hand. "It's about time you got yourself a man. You can't live here forever, you know. Hell, I'm not going to be living here forever either. I want to get out of here! Well, you should understand that too, but I'm all grown up, you're still getting there. Enjoy it while you can, but just be ready when it hits you." Marian was six years older than Sandra, but had been living on her own or with boyfriends since she was eighteen. The second she could be out on her own, she was.

When she was finally finished with her makeup and her face was relatively pinker and her eyes made to look a few shades darker, Marian stood up. She took the bathrobe off, readjusted her dress, put on her uniform's apron, and twirled around for her cousin to see.

"Notice anything new?" she asked with a smirk on her cherry red lips.

There were so many things Sandra could consider new about her. She almost didn't even recognize her cousin when she entered the house. Marian had looked taller in her high heels, seemed more grown up with makeup and short hair that had light layers cut in it, and even appeared more outgoing with the low-cut top. Taking in almost everything she could, she finally spotted out what it must have been.

"Who gave you that?" Sandra asked in a higher and excited voice. She rushed over and pulled Marian's right hand up in front of her eyes. Around her fourth finger was a solid gold ring. It shinned stunningly, and reflected the light from above. When Marian turned it over there was a trail of beautiful diamonds. Sandra was in complete awe and overwhelmed with happiness, which also shone bright on her cousin's face. "When did this happen? How did he afford it?"

"His name is Lawrence Gilroy," said Marian, practically swooning from just talking about him. "He's Scottish, he's rich, he's beautiful, and I love him. Right now I love him more than anything else in the world, and nothing else matters." She put it as simply as that, out in black and white. But Sandra caught her saying how he was rich above anything else, and that stuck with her. The Marian she used to know would have gone right past that. She would have talked of how he cared and how he had been faithful for so many years.

"How long have you known him?" Sandra asked her, still observing the ring.

Marian hesitated. "Well, around eight months," Sandra's widened at this, but her cousin swiftly added in, "and I you don't approve of that at all, but we were practically made for each other and I love him more than anything in this world." She seemed so serious about the matter to where there wasn't a hint of lying in her voice.

"You can't marry someone that soon! I have friends from primary school that I still don't know everything about," Sandra tried to argue her view on the situation. It was a completely bad idea waiting to happen. You couldn't want to marry someone that soon, could you? "How can you commit your whole life to someone that soon? What happen if you or-"

"I love him, okay?" Marian argued back, as if it was the most simply line in the world. "By that, I know it will work out, and I don't need anything else except for him."

Sandra sighed, if it was being in love she knew she couldn't completely grasp it. But Marian was going to promise to be with this man, Lawrence, for all of her life. Whether they were ill, poor, healthy, rich, or any other obstacle that came in their way, they would be bound legally and spiritual together. If they couldn't follow all of that, it would lead to heart break. Sandra thought about how she must have had a pessimistic outlook on relationships compared to most people.

"Well then," said Sandra, excepting her defeat in the argument for the moment, "when is it going to be, and where?" If her cousin was going through with this wedding she was going to have to make herself part of it. What if they had children; would she be an aunt? No, only a second cousin.

"Actually," Marian said, uncertainty hidden behind her voice, "he's taking me to Spain, in April. Just the two of us and a minister are going to be there. We're planning on living there for a while too. You just have to promise you will not tell anyone in the family! My mother didn't approve of this at all when she found out, so know one else, got it?"

"Oh, yeah sure," Sandra trailed off. There was good reason for this. Generally their entire family would be outraged if they found this out. It would remain a secret, without a doubt.

"Hey think about it this way," Marian said, "in April I'll have been going with him for more than a year. And not to mention we were friends before that." This reassured Sandra. They weren't completely running into it, she told herself. Marian was now eyeing the ticking clock on the wall and appeared to be getting a bit jittery.

"Alright, got ta' go now," she told Sandra, in a rush. She pulled on her coat, grabbed they keys off the table, and put her hand on the doorknob. "Your room is one down from mine, but on the left. It might be a little stuffy so open some windows or something. It's usually a guest room, but I don't have guests that often." She laughed. "Be back late so don't have any parties while I'm gone, unless you invite me." She laughed again at herself this time and then went on her way.

"Hang on, what about-" Sandra was too late. She wasn't sure what in particular she was going to ask either; maybe about the neighbors, what to eat, how long 'late' was, or anything else about the house she could think of.

She was now alone in the house. The house that was in an unfamiliar side of town, that she didn't know what kind of people they were.

The sun was nearly set, with the darkening sky and some clouds rolling in to cover the appearing moon. She would fix herself a bit of food to hold her over until morning, and then send herself to bed.

Sandra entered her new room with her cup of tea and a few cookies she found in the cupboard. Looking inside the room, it did look like a normal guest room. A trundle bed sat in the corner with a night stand with an old styled lamp sitting on it. She walked over to turn it on and set the food down and found it was covered in a layer of dust. When the light flashed on she could see the small specks floating in the air above it, and around the rest of the room. It smelled noisome enough that she could almost taste it. Everything was wrapped in a musky veil.

She blew air onto the end table and wiped some of the other furniture. There was also I little writing desk in the far corner, and shelf that was full of old papers, and wardrobe on the back wall. She dust flew up and went into her lungs. Sandra coughed a bit and left the room once more to drag her suitcases into the room. She would fill the wardrobe in the morning, she decided. Changing into her nightgown, she drank the rest of her tea and ate the last cookie. Breakfast could wait for in the morning for some substantial food.

Sandra got under the covers of her timeworn bed. It was thin and springy, the opposite of her one back at home. Home, she thought, No! Absolutely no turning back and thinking about it now! She leaned over and turned the light off. She only had waiting left, to see what the next morning would bring her.

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><p><em>Alright everyone! There is another chapter come and gone, so reviews if you please! They would make me so happy!<em>

_Fare thee well~_


	5. A Day in the Life

_Alright, no motivation to actually get up and write this one. Only one reviews ;u; That makes me sad. Hope this story is actually keeping your interest (This chapter probably wont oops.) I have this feeling you guys are really just here to hear about the guys, and I know it's taking a bit but they will become a regular thing! Promise!_

_So please enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter Five:<strong>  
><strong>A Day in the Life<strong>

Waking up, there wasn't any bright sunlight shinning in through the window, nor was there birds chirping as the morning's flowers blossomed. The birds had all gone for the winter and they were replaced with several millions of snowflakes and piles of slush. The temperature had fallen again drastically in the past two months and now called for scarves, hats, gloves, and significantly more layers to keep warm.

Outside of the window it was still practically night time, or at least it looked that way. There were still few spots of stars left and the sliver of a moon still hung above. It wasn't until you would look off into the distance that you could see the sun hiding behind a few buildings on the horizon. The orange-tinted glow seemed to push away the darkness around it, though it still remained in the rest of the sky.

Icicles were hanging on the ends of the gutters. They were short but still sharp. In the lightest bit of wind they would usually chip or fall off and break onto the ground. The sidewalk below was covered in a sheet of ice that the people had to be careful not to slip on.

Reluctantly pulling off the covers off, Sandra was exposed to the cool weather just like every day before in this week. Just one more, she told herself. One more day and then it's the weekend. And the weekend means no more work for two days. She gradually rose up and proceeded to take her shower, dry her hair, wash her face, get dressed, and anything else she would need for the day.

She passed through the hallway, seeing Marian's door still shut. She must have still been sleeping. Sandra made her way into the kitchen and fixed herself a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee before heading out. She couldn't stand the taste of coffee, but it was really the only thing that could get her awake in the morning. Looking to the clock and noticing the time, she scarfed down her food and drink, grabbed her coat and other pieces of clothes to keep warm, and with her bag in hand headed out the door. Unlocking her cousin's car door, she pulled out and drove away just like every morning. She would be home before night came, and in time for Marian to head out to her own job.

There was little traffic this early in the morning on these London streets and back roads. Sandra's boss always wanted her to be there extra early. He made her fix his coffee and tea throughout the day and clean up around the office before anyone else showed up or before she started her own work. She didn't get paid extra for doing these things, but it was the only way she would be able to get the job in the first place. She need that job, it was the first step to making herself more successful in the long run

She parked outside of the tiny building whenever she arrived. The sign in the front read, The Masquerade; that being the name of the local magazine that Sandra was working for. She entered the door and was hit by a wave of almost suffocating heat. She wandered over, punched in her time card, and headed back into the work room. She gave a big smile and wave to Margaret, the receptionist and one of the best friends she had made in London as of yet. Though, they only talked at work, and once they would punch out at the end of the day it was like they were nonexistent to one another.

"Ready for another day working' for the man?" Sandra mused. Margaret merely rolled her eyes.

"Get to work," she ordered playfully with a smirk, pointing over to Sandra's desk. Sandra stuck her tongue out, gave a 'huff,' but then did as she was told.

Sandra's desk here was almost just as covered in papers as the one at home was, only much tidier here. Snippets of newspapers were hidden in separate folders, while past copies of the Masquerade were stacked in the uppermost corner. A typewriter sat in the middle, taking up most of the space, but left just enough for a pile of scratch paper and a pen on the side. A glass from her water yesterday still sat on the floor by her chair. She cursed herself for forgetting to wash it, but she could always just bring it home and do it later that night.

The young women glanced around the room. There were plenty of other desks placed in rows in the long room. There was only one other person at his desk, but she didn't actually know his name and he was near the front. Every desk seemed to have something special; whether it be that it had pictures of family members or was completely neat like the person who sat at it.

She now looked over what she had written on the crisp white paper of the typewriter. Her job over the past week had been to write on past "Model of the Year." She had lost interest in writing anything regarding to Jean Shrimpton. Reading over Vanity Fair, Glamour, Vogue for so called "interesting" details and new hot ideas had become tiresome, especially when it was the same things repeated about her beauty over and over.

The clock on the wall sounded, and Sandra knew she needed to start cleaning up. Her boss would be there soon, and she would get chewed out if she wasn't working. She set her bad beside her chair and went right to it.

The second Sandra got home from work she kicked off her snow boots and collapsed onto the couch. She snuggled up in a blanket and wish she could just fall asleep. Marian quietly crept in and set a cup of tea on the wooden coffee table in front of her cousin. She was dressed in her work attire once more.

"Rough day?" she asked, uncharacteristically calm.

"Yes," Sandra put simply, ready to bury her head into a pillow. She was so tired. Trying to get off the top she asked, "Sugar?"

"Two spoonfuls already," Marian assured her, not dwelling on the topic of work if it wasn't wanted. A thought suddenly popped into her mind. "Oh, you got a phone call while you were out."

"It wasn't my mum, was it?" asked Sandra, sounding annoyed while she stirred her drink and took a sip. She felt the warm liquid go down her throat, her brain telling her it might just help. Her mother on the other hand, at this moment, would not help. Talking to her would probably cause things to go down hill.

"No, it wasn't your mum," said Marian. At this, Sandra breathed a heavy sigh of relief. It wasn't that she ever had a bad relationship with her mother. The two of them were best friends for the majority of Sandra's life they way she saw it. Her mother was not a bad person, nor did she ever do anything wrong that her daughter was aware of. Her eyes, her mother was nearly the perfect image of how a maternal figure was to act. She took care of the family, raised good children, taught them right from wrong, and still had time to be a good wife. But now, Sandra had left so many things off on the wrong foot, and she wasn't ready to own up to any of them just yet.

"It was just some boy asked for you," Marian carried on. A smirk was playing at her lips, and the pitch of her voice rose. "Think he said his name was Richard or something. Sounded like a Scouser to me." This instantly peeked Sandra's interest, but there was absolutely no way. Richard was Ringo's real name, wasn't it? Yeah, Richard Starkey. And of course he wouldn't give out his stage name to a girl over the phone, unless he wanted her to blow his eardrum out with screams. Now that she thought about it, Sandra wasn't sure if Marian was even a Beatles fan in the first place. But that was aside the point now.

"Did he want me to call him back?" asked Sandra in a rushed voice, as if she were pleaded for any small details her cousin had to offer. She never thought this would happen. She thought she would be nothing but a memory to the four of them, and that after waiting those two months that she should have given up. She was even beginning to. Though after that chance of a lifetime, how could she possibly do a thing like that?

"Well why would he call you in the first place if he didn't want to talk to you?" said Marian, matter-of-factually, "Have you been hooking up with some of those boys up in Liverpool without telling me?" Sandra was simply trying to ignore the comments she was getting, so that she could get to a phone the next chance she had.

"Ha, you aren't even going to try and deny it!" She was pulling on a sweater and her shoes, while shooting off all kinds of accusations that embarrassed Sandra to bits. This was the normal things that happened though, Marian bothering her cousin with these things, and then Sandra shooting something back. Then after their bit of fun, Marian would have to up and leave for her own job, nearly half an hour after Sandra got home in the evening. The didn't get to spend much time together, aside from weekends and late nights, so the two made fun with what they did have.

"You remember Patrick, I know you do," Sandra suggested, ready to get some kind of revenge. "Who was hooking up with a Liverpool boy that time? I'm pretty sure it wasn't me," she laughed remembering the stories she was told. He had apparently a brain the size of a peanut, and enough money to keep the drinks rolling in at one of the local bars. "You knew him for the whole extent of two days."

"True, true," said Marian, with a playful smile and nodding, "I won't deny that in the least, as long as you don't deny that you were with Allen that one time." She had caught Sandra in a tight spot.

"I'm not denying anything," stated Sandra, but she began to laugh a bit under her breath. Allen was a friend of Sandra's when she was a teenager, still living in Manchester. She had know him for quite a few years, but eventually had to move away.

"We were young, and had the stupid idea during a thunderstorm," she said, while Marian gave her that 'knowing' look. "We were a bit cold, so, you know how it is. Getting under the covers isn't all that bad." She couldn't help but burst out in a laugh. Changing the story to edit out some details was pretty simple for her, and she was really glad that she could. Marian pulled a hand over her mouth to try and hold in her own laughs.

"Okay, okay," said Sandra, trying to control herself through random giggles, "you were with some guy just last month I thought. Or am I mistaking it for all the other times you were?"

"Hey," said Marian, suddenly deadly serious. She held her hand up to her face and pointed to her finger with her other hand, like she had done so many times before. She was pointing to her ring. She went on to say, "Getting married, not doing that kind of thing with anyone else anymore."

"Sorry, only playing around," said Sandra, composing herself. She sat up on the edge of the couch and ran her fingers through her hair. It was losing its curl at the end and falling into its natural straight form. On last small chuckle escaped her lips. "Geez, you're turning me into such a pervert, just like you. I hope you're happy!"

"I really am," mused Marian. "You're no fun with that pole up your ass. Livening you up is my new goal in life, and I've got to stick to it!" She looked over to the clock and announced it was time to leave. Sandra walked right behind her to the door, but regretted it when the cold air found its way back inside the house.

"At least I don't work with a pole up my ass," Sandra playfully shouted behind her cousin, as she walked away from the house. In return, Marian flipped her the bird without as much as turning around. Sandra shut the door, and then rushed back to her room.

The room was now fixed up and much homier. She had purchased new curtains and sheets, all in matching blue. Against the white walls she was afraid it looked like a baby boy's room though. She had a few photographs of friends and family members on tables along with a few paintings she found in a closet and cleaned up hanging on the walls. The writing desk was in a mess, with papers scattered all over it and the wastebasket nearly full. The dust had all been cleaned up and now the room had scent of vanilla to it.

She sat down on the end of the bed cross-legged, pulling the phone up into her lap. Sandra dialed the number from the slip of paper her cousin handed her right before she left. The four rings felt like an eternity to her. Finally there was a voice at the end of the line.

"Hello?" the person who picked up asked. Sandra did not recognize the voice. It sounded exhausted and a tab bit irritable, but pleasant aside from it all.

"Hi," she said, a bit louder than she had hoped, "I'm calling for Ring-err-Richard. Is this the right number?" She truly hoped it was with all of her heart.

"Oh yeah, you must be the one they were mentioning earlier," the man informed her. His voice quickly rose but became muffled, like he put his hand over the phone, but it could still be made out that he said, "No it's not for you McCartney!" He came back to normal, "Ringo, phone call. Come 'ead, I'm not giving you lot that much longer of a break."

"Hello there," said Ringo, from the other end. Sandra beamed with a smile, even if he couldn't see it. This wasn't a joke, he actually did call her. Not that she would take that kind of doubt in the first place, but here she was, talking to Ringo Starr for the second time in her life. She tried to calm herself and act cool like when they first met, but she didn't feel exactly like that awkward girl on the train at this moment. Can't act like a fool now,she told herself.

"Hello," she replied. Now that she had the chance to talk to him, her mind went blank of what to say. She came up with, "So you called earlier, when I was at work. I didn't get to catch it, because, well I was at work..." She was repeated herself, that wasn't a good sign she knew.

"Of course I called! Told ya' we would, didn't I?" he laughed.

"Two months ago, you did," she told him, unintentionally not sounding too happy with that fact.

"Oh," Ringo quieted down, "sorry about that. Just been busy with work and such myself all this time, haven't had much time to spare."

"Who answered the phone, before you, you know?" Sandra asked trying to change the subject. She definitely understood what the bombardments of work could do to a person.

"That was just Brian," he told her, like she would know exactly who he was. When she remained quiet he went on to say, "He's our manager. He's the one making us famous and all."

"Oh okay!" said Sandra. Now the memory of Brian Epstein sprung into her head. Without him, the Beatles probably wouldn't be here. They might still just be back in Liverpool, playing at the clubs just like kids. Brian practically discovered them. "What are you lot up to now?"

"Just working on some recording at the studio," answered Ringo. His voice had a smile behind it. "Guess where the studio's at."

"I don't know," she said, but then stopped. There could be no way, at all. She prayed on the slight chance.

"We're in London," Ringo announced. "That's where you live, isn't it?"

"Yeah it is!" the girl exclaimed. She was so excited that she felt like a child whose wish they made on birthday candles had just come true.

"One second," said Ringo. He went on to talk to the other people around him. "Hey Brian, can we have a friend over?" he asked like a child.

"Oh, please, can we? Can we, please?" John begged through snickers.

There was a silence.

"If you, and her, can behave," Brian seemed to think aloud, "then it will be fine. Just her though! We're not having a 'do in here, and you four are still on the clock!" Some joyous remarks of agreement could be heard on the other end, definitely pleased with Brian's positive verdict.

"Did you get all that?" Ringo asked.

"Yep!" said Sandra. She was beaming with a smile. She took the last drink of her tea, stood up, and walked to her closet. She was careful not to stretch the cord all too far. Should she change, or did she look fine? How about her hair, how was that? Should she eat a proper meal before going out? Oh God, how did her breath smell? She knew she was thinking too much…

"Mal will be over to get you in a bit, if that's all right with you. He's a friend of ours',"Ringo explained. "I don't think she'll care if you go too… Paul and George are going to come with him. Can you get ready quickly?"

"I'll do my best!" Sandra proceeded to tell him the address and what the house looked like, as well as how there would be no car in the driveway but she still was home. "So, let the guys know I'll be waiting for them when they get here. See you then!" She placed the phone back when he said goodbye and tried to freshen up in only a few minutes, not knowing how long she had. It would be just a little longer and then she would be off to see the Beatles.

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><p><em>So we've gotten to now see a bit of Sandra's wilder side, which I think a lot of you might have be waiting for. There you have it! Reviews pretty please!<em>

_Catch ya' later~_


	6. All I've Gotta Do

_It's been a while since a new chapter, I know, don't hate me! Life's been stressful; finals are coming up in school, and just so many other things that have been giving me trouble. But I think we need some more important Beatles related news here._

_George passed away ten years ago on November 29th. It's simple to say there were a lot of tears from me on that day; I do miss him so much. But in memory of him I tried to give up material possessions on that day. That pretty much included in inanimate object that I do use quite to much. This included my computer for writing (hence why you didn't get a chapter sooner.)_

_Then this past Thursday was the anniversary of John's death. Both of them meant so much to me and the world. They have influenced my life for the better. I just needed to take this chance here to do a little more remembrance before carrying onto a story where they are alive and well. Thank you for reading this, and I hope you enjoy what has to come now._

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

**All I've Gotta Do**

Sandra was ready to go. She was carefully peering through the blinds of the window, wondering when her ride would be here. A thin coat of dust covered the windowsill. Normally, she would have found a cloth to wipe it off with, but not at a time like this. She was far to excited and busy. But the more she thought about it, the more that excitement turned to nervousness.

Maybe she should clean up. They might end up coming inside and seeing the house. Sandra glanced around the room through the corner of her eye, spotting clothes hung across different pieces of furniture. It's so filthy, she told herself, but she could rush outside before they came up. She ran her finger along the windowsill, pulling up the dust on it, turning it a light grey. Sounds good.

She pulled apart the plastic blinds once more and noticed a luxurious black car driving in front of her house. Something like that didn't belong to anyone around here. The driver's door opened and a man in a white dress shirt stepped out. Following him from the passenger's seat and the back were two more figures. One wore a long, brown trench coat and the other which had a black jacket and mod-styled hat. They looked to the number on the side of the house, nodded to each other, and then stared approaching the door. It was them.

Sandra rushed to pull her coat off the hanger. She looked over herself in the hall mirror and decided she looked fine for the occasion. She fiddled with a notepad from the kitchen drawer and wrote, 'Don't know how late I'll be. Went out with friends.' She stuck it on the counter and rushed back over to the door in the nick of time; she heard someone knocking. She swung it open to see three smiling faces.

One was Paul's, the one adorned with a hat was George, and the last, the driver, must have been the Mal Evans character she had heard of on the phone. The first thing she noticed on him was wore thick, black glasses, that looked much like her own. His hair was oddly parted and combed back out of his face (not that it was long enough to hang in his eyes though.) She did have to look up to see all of this. He towered over her like a great tree with a face; though Sandra was sure he didn't mean to, looking down menacingly at her. His stare could cut steel. The rest of him was stocky. Sandra quickly moved her eyes away.

"You got here quickly," she lied. In truth it seemed like forever, but as she looked to the clock she saw it had really been twenty minutes.

"You were warned prior," George told her, jokingly. She had never noticed before, but his voice seemed in some ways 'lighter' than the other four boys. She also saw that when he smiled he had a toothy grin, where one side of his lips would rise higher and it would also show off sharp K9's. And while now standing face-to-face with him like this, instead of seated in a train, she found out that they were more on a face-to-shoulder level. She had the same problem with Paul. Her families genetics did this to all of the women.

"And that is why I'm perfectly ready," said Sandra, pinning up the last button on her coat. She noticed Paul trying to peek around her and into the house. She gave him a quizzical look.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" asked Paul. "We'll all freeze out here." He seemed to forcefully make himself shiver and his teeth chatter.

"We've got to get going, don't we?" said Sandra, thoroughly trying to dodge his question. She looked over to Mal, because he seemed more responsible to her than the other two.

"She's right," he mused, "you heard what Brian said. 'Sides, you know John an' Rings are probably bored to death." Sandra nodded along, as if she understood everything to a T.

"Right, right," said Paul. "Let's be going then." He profoundly showed the young woman to the car, after she locked the door behind her. He opened the left back door for her acting very gentlemanly, to which she thanked him. The seat was soft and made of leather, but cold. George sat on the right, leaving the middle open and Paul in the front. When Mal started the engine there was unfortunately no heat and it would take time for it to warm it.

"I hate the cold," Sandra muttered under her breath spitefully. She didn't mean to be heard.

"This is nothing," Paul told her as he turned around in his seat to face her. "Back in Liverpool it was miserable, being that close to the sea ya' know."

"I imagine you're right," Sandra trailed off. She probably had it is easy compared to a lot of people out there. "So is this warm to you guys?"

"No way," said Paul.

"It's bloody freezing everywhere," said George. This time his features did not hold any sign joking. Sandra decided it best not to speak, but then Paul and Mal gave a pleasent laugh. Her eye widened and darted back and forth between the three of them, unsure what to do. Sensing the awkwardness in the back seat, Paul went to change the subject.

"Ringo told us you've got a job now," he said, twisting his neck to look back at her. It looked as though his seat belt was restricting him and causing problems more than it was meant to just for safety. He eventually just unbuckled it to make it much easier on himself.

"That's right," she replied, "working for this magazine a little out of town. It's not much, but it's pay." She didn't want to show how much she didn't like the job to them, but she knew that the feelings slipped out with all of the other words off of her tongue. She thought about it for a second, and then really began to wonder why she hid these kinds of things from the boys. They were people. Nothing more, nothing less. They were sure to understand the feelings off not wanting to get up in the morning and go into work.

Sandra stopped that thought for just a moment. The four of them were making music everyday when they went in. They could play any tune they wanted and write down lyrics to their heart's desires. Surely they couldn't mind working all that much. It was just as though money was magically added on to the fact that they could get by on what truly made them happy.

But they put their shirts on one sleeve at a time, no different than her. She needed to stop thinking.

"You don't sound too happy about that," commented Mal, turning his head to look over at her for only a second and then back to the road. The ride was bringing them deeper into the city. There was a much more abundant amount of buildings and cars now. The buildings were more often than not only businesses and shop aside from homes. Sandra could easily say that she was lost, were she taking herself to the studio. That wasn't an uncommon feeling for her though.

She had been many places so far in her life and because of this had learned at least one thing: you're always going to be lost, but when the time comes, you will learn where you stand and find your way.

At this moment, Sandra knew she needed to say something, but also knew that she would end up carrying on and on about the situation.

"Honestly, I'm not," she began, "I absolutely love the fact that I get to write for a living, so don't get me wrong on that part, but it's so tiresome. The people are fine, but plain, and the work space is cramped and cluttered. And then having to spend everyday talking about unimportant matters like clothing or other trends mean nothing to me. I've wanted to write all of my life, just not like this.

"I want to make something that will last and change the way the world sees its everyday life. Something that will challenge the mind of whichever person happens to stumble upon it. People will be captivated enough to go out and share new found ideas to others and little by little it will start a change of everyone," These were some of Sandra's deepest thoughts of her wild imagination. She was unaware of the smile that grew like a jester's and that she was talking with her hands to motion the bigger and better things. She suddenly lost her train of thought and felt her inhibitions returning.

She was self conscious. She hated to admit it, but she truly was. She picked up on how her mind questioned every little thing she might have done. But when she could go off on her endless ideas like that, or when she could write them down, doubts left her mind. She was free, even if it was only for than time when she was alone with a pen in her hand. She wished she could be cured of this problem that restrained her around people.

Two pairs of eyes pierced through her. This went on for an eternity, until there was a voice from one of them.

"You certainly do have a way with words," said George, staring her down and seemingly searching for anything else Sandra had to say. His eyes were nothing short of intense and the young woman couldn't help but be caught by them. His eyebrows shot up and he gave a smirk for grabbing her attention. She snickered at his expression of amusement.

"You are, without a doubt, an interesting character George Harrison," she mused. She felt like she was going to question anytime that he was being serious from now on. Was he just playing around, or did completely mean what he said?

"Write about me some time then, will ya'?" he said back to her, sitting up straighter in his seat and putting his hand on the door. Sandra nodded slowly, but was now more focused on following his eyes out the window. Snow had begun to fall again but she felt the air around her gradually warming. Was the heater beginning to work? That must have been it. The car was now lurching forwards an inch at a time, until it was gradually stopped. Looking out the window on her own side, they were in a parking lot, surrounded by car of many shapes and sizes.

"We're here," said Paul, drawing the statement out long and in a sing-song tone. He pushed open his door, and like before turned to open Sandra's for her. She too stepped out and followed the three young men into the multi-storied building. As she walked, she pondered on the small fact that as for George being dubbed the "Quiet Beatle" she had actually spoken to him at least twice as much for the entire ride. And while Paul was known for being the all around "ladies man," Sandra sensed no flirting out of him, unless he was very subtle with it.

At entering the building, there was a welcomed wave of warm air. The boys greeted the receptionist, just like any other place of work, and they continued to a flight of stairs. They rose up a few levels and then Mal held open one of the doors a few paces in the hallway. They filed into the room, which surprised Sandra by being much being on the inside. It was a long room. That was another thing that reminded her of her own work. A small booth came out of the side in the back, but most of the room appeared to be a plastic box filled with instruments and chairs to rest in.

Spotting John and Ringo, each fiddling with their own pieces of musical equipment, Sandra gave a polite wave. John noticed they had entered, gave her a curt nod, but then went back to adjusting the strings on his guitar. Ringo on the other hand shot up from his drum set.

"Sandra!" he beamed, walking over in front of her, "Glad you made it." He held his arms out, but the young woman instantly felt odd. She stuck her hand out to him, laughing awkwardly.

"Oh, sorry," she said, acting as though she hadn't noticed him all that much. He put his arm down, took a sharp breath in, and instead shook her hand in turn. "Hand shakes now, hugs later?"

"That makes more sense," Ringo put simply and seemed to instantly shrug it off. There was a bit of a snort behind him. With George and Paul going back to their instruments, now John was looking up.

"Hand shake is about as far as you're ever going to get with any bird," said John, a smirk hidden by his hand when he pretended to have a coughing fit. Sandra shot a glare out at him without thinking. There was no time to take it back though, as he noticed in an instant. "Just the facts ma'am, that's all it is." He had put on his humor and charm again. Sandra opened her mouth to protest on Ringo's defense, but a voice came out of the walls.

"One more recording guys," it said, "then we're done with the album." There was a collection of groans for just a moment, but then they knew to get right to work. It was one of those 'the sooner we finish, the sooner we're free' situations. Sandra understood completely; it was just best to get it out of the way now.

At the moment, Sandra stood quietly off to the side of the room. Ringo was taking a seat on the stool behind his drum set, picking up the sticks and playing out a little beat she didn't recognize. John seemed to be silent with his instrument, but the rest of his body was noisy. He paced back and forth and around a microphone the hung from the ceiling. George was standing still on the far side of the room with his guitar in hand, playing out some kind of rhythm that was extremely memorable. Paul was sitting the closest to her in a fold away chair, situating the bass properly on his lap. She examined how his was facing the opposite direction, using his left hand, which was something that she had only seen from Paul McCartney.

"Where should I…" Sandra mustered up the words, but never finished them to see Paul setting his guitar down by the neck and standing up to move over to her. He graciously led her into the small booth that she had seen when entering. It was paneled with dark wood on the walls and had seats that lined up against a board of so many knobs and switches. Sandra knew she would never be able to handle that thing in a million years. The entire wall in front of the sound board was see though, so they could easily watch the boys as they played.

Mal was seated closest to the entrance (aside from one empty seat that was closer) and two other men sat farther down. They were both dressed up on suits, but seemed to have gradually taken off their blazers and thrown them onto the back of their chairs. Over hearing the conversation they held with each other she recognized the manager, Brian's, to be the man against the far wall. She had no idea who the other man was though. He looked older than the rest of them by quite a bit and his voice sounded very pristine and royal.

She looked back to Paul, who was directly behind her now, and said to him, "You really are quite a gentleman, Mr. McCartney." She took her seat next to Mal, giving him a wave when she looked over at him, but then her eyes hovered back to Paul's baby face to see if he would say anything in turn.

"Oh you think that now," he chuckled but then lowered his voice to almost a whisper, "just wait until we go out dancing sometime." Sandra stuttered trying to protest to that. She couldn't go out to another place with them; it was just unethical thinking. She couldn't get any words out before Paul let out a joyous howl, literally ran back into other room, scooped up his guitar, and shot a grin over to John. John did the same and then looked into the booth. His eyes caught Sandra's for just a second but he moved on to signal Brian that they were ready to start.

"That man over there," said Mal, his voice hushed, leaning over in his seat to be close to Sandra's ear. He was pointing to the man that she didn't know. He was now adjusting a few things on the sound board that the young woman refused to even think about touching. Mal went on to say, "His name's George Martin; their producer. He wasn't too keen on you coming over when he found out, so, just play it safe for now." His voice was very quiet at the end of all that. Sandra figured it was something that she wasn't supposed to know, but definitely took it to heart.

Sandra began to talk with Mal more now. Even if it was only small talk before the boys began playing, it was still something. She was mad at herself for judging him too quickly. She was intimidated by his height and his facial expressions, but now actually talking to him he was simply a nice, generous guy. They chattered on until they were 'hushed' by the two older men. The booth grew completely silent in an instant and she could hear John begin over some sort of speaker system in the room.

"One, two, three, four…" he counted off. As if a train had smashed into a speeding car, the great clatter of music began. John and George began with their guitars and Paul held it out with his part as bass. After about ten seconds in Ringo lit up and began beating on the drums and cymbals. Sandra was amazed how so simply it could all just come together, just like that.

She studied how they worked. John was the lead right now. Nearly every line of this song belonged to him, except for when Paul and George would echo his world for the harmony. This was how the majority of their songs worked, unless it was Paul singing lead the other half of the time, or George on a small occasion. Paul seemed to have the most fun out of those three. He would smile and shake his head when he got to hold out a long note. John was tapping his foot for the most part and staring at the microphone or his guitar. One or twice, he would look over into the booth and cross his eyes or any other sort of goofy face he could think of and Sandra would laugh silently at it.

George was different than the other two. He held complete focus on the music and his own skill at playing. He was now standing at a point where his right foot planted on the ground while his left was propped up on the cushioned chairs with his guitar leaning against it. He played steadily like this for nearly all of the song, until his foot slipped and feel to the floor. His shoe hit the ground hard with a disruptive thunk. Sandra could see him shut his eyes in frustration and the rest of the music came to a halt. It did not take long for John to disrupt the silence.

"Great, Harrison," he said through his teeth, "just great. Now that whole thing is going to have to be scratched, and we've got to do all of it again." His tone was harsh. Sandra thought how John had these kinds of moments where he went from the fun loving side of the spectrum to the complete opposite where he became almost a harsh dictator. She knew she was exaggerating, but it was partially true. He was like the modern day version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

After an argument between the two had finally calmed down, the band prepared to play once more. Everyone was much calmer and still this time. Sandra leaned over to Mal.

"Is that a common thing with him?" she asked, referring to John little outburst and what it led to.

"Not terribly," said Mal. "He's a bit on edge today."

"Why, did something happen?"

"They're going to America in February. He's just a little shook up over it. But he's John, he's tough, and he'll get used to the idea. The rest of them aren't really thinking of it much I guess."

"That's only in two months. They should-" she was cut off. The producer had told them to start the song again and they did just that. Turning her attention back to them, this time she looked over to Ringo. Before it was his time to start he sat quiet with that sad expression that couldn't be help. When it was his turn to join in though, his eyes lit up and a cheesy grin plastered itself to his face. He shook his head with the beat, sending his hair flipping back and forth. He was in his element more than anyone Sandra had ever seen. Watching him like this, she couldn't help but feel as happy as he was.

Sandra nonchalantly tapped her foot to the music, though it made no noise against the floor because her legs were crossed. In her head, she sang along with the one line she remembered when it came along at the very end, 'Not a second time.' The take had gone perfectly it seemed.

"Good job boys," Brian said over the intercom system. He leaned back in his chair and sighed after resting his hands behind his head. He must have been glad to get it all said and done.

"Are you a fan?" George Martin asked, catching Sandra off guard. She really hadn't expected him to say a word to her after what Mal said to her. The young woman just nodded in response, figuring that better than to rattle on and on to him about how sometimes she enjoyed their music and sometimes it was just because her friends would sucker her into it. He went on, "Do you think that will do?"

Sandra thought on it for a moment. This was a song about not giving someone a second chance in a relationship, or at least that was how she saw it. There were many ways any sort of music could be interpreted. The words were fine, the instrumentals were gorgeous, and the vocals sounded good to her ears, but there was something. Something in the background of the song was missing. She thought on it for just a moment, and then came up with her answer for him.

"Would it be okay if I…" she motioned to the room where the boys stood. She had spotted an extra assortment of instruments in a back corner. The producer nodded and she picked herself up and entered the room. She went to the back and approached a small acoustic piano in the back of the room. She felt all eyes fall on her, so tried not to turn around. She gently sat down on the bench, and without looking back said, "Guys, do you think you could start it up again?" The four of them muttered their agreements and began playing a much more casual version of the song before.

Sandra took a deep breathe. She prayed that she would get this right. It had been years since she had played anything on the piano. She had spent a lot of her teenage years (and her mother's money) on lessons to play perfectly. She was told it was like riding a bike, and that once you learned you never really forgot. She hoped that that was true more than ever right now.

She placed her fingers on the keys and tried to get in touch with the tune. The second that she wrapped her brain around it, she plucked on some of the white keys and, surprising, sounds great to her ears. There were a few times she knew her finger slipped away from the correct chord, but she acted like it didn't bother her at all. But after just a bit of playing, she lost her focus. Her hand hit a few places to close together and she clenched her teeth. That didn't sound good at all.

"That's what we need for this one," John exclaimed, back to that interested, pleasant side of himself. Sandra was flustered. She didn't want to even imagine how many mistakes she made attempting that. I was just playing by ear, she told herself, and only after hearing it twice.

"No," she said, denying John of his praise, "that wasn't any good. It sounded fine before hand. Forget I did anything." She was throwing up her hands as she talked. She was frustrated, thinking that she could try and 'fix' the sound of professionals. She put her head in her palm and paced back and forth. She didn't notice that someone set his guitar down and walked up to her until he pulled her arm down to her side and straighten her out.

"Don't beat yourself up about things like this," said George, looking her straight forward in the eyes. Sandra took a deep breath in and tried to do what he said. She only felt a bit relieved, not much. "That was good," he put simply, releasing her arms but hovering in front of her longer to make sure she was done.

"Yeah," John added in, pulling Sandra's attention to him now, "another take with the piano backing and I think we're done. Fin!"

"Alright?" George said, making sure she understood they were glad to have heard her idea on the song, and maybe overall that they were going to use it.

Sandra didn't understand where the positive comments were coming from, but she unexpectedly felt very overwhelmed by it. Stupid feelings, she told herself, if only joking. She forced a smile to the two boys and nodded in understanding. She tried to make light of the matter by laughing and saying:

"Hey Ringo, can I have that hug now?"

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><p><em>Guys, just realized this: In this chapter, they're working on recording song the were in With the Beatles, in December. When I was done writing all this, it turns out that they finished recording in October… So sorry about the history fumble there, please for give me ;u;<em>

_Okay, and more thing and then I will leave. I was wondering what you guys call a good length for the "average chapter?" I know some people just call for 1000 words, but then others like very long and lengthy (5000-ish.) I was just want to know what you personally like. Because I've noticed every new chapter I write gets longer than the one previous and maybe you like that and maybe you don't. Alright, that's all from me._

_Auf Wiedersehen~_

_PS- If you guys can't tell, now I'm pretty much purposely messing with you about who Sandra's love interest is going to end up being. I wasn't in the chapters before this, but it seems that most of you guys are really interested in that haha Love you all 3_


	7. When I Get Home

_Okay, there is just something about this chapter that's getting on my nerves. It didn't turn out like I hoped. It's just the set up of it I think. There are a load of "flashbacks" at the beginning, and I'm not a big fan of italicizing the whole entire area. It just messes with the flow of things for me or something like that, I don't know! You should be able to figure it out though, hopefully…_

_Also, thanks for the reviews, they really make me smile! Keep them coming?_

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><p><strong>Chapter 7:<strong>  
><strong>When I Get Home<strong>

Sandra was home now. Mal had driven her home from the recording studio, along with Paul and John in the car with them. Ringo and George had decided on some much needed shut eye and made their way back to their own flats. The boys who were with her did their best to come up with interesting conversations and fun topics to carry on with, but the girl was preoccupied. Her thoughts still lingered on about her little situation at the studio.

George Martin had entered the room after her moment of frustration with the boys. He told of how he was curious to find out how a complete piano addition would change the song. He also said that he would rather take over and do the part, and with Sandra knowing he was probably much more skilled, she wandered back to the sound booth after she verbally acknowledged this.

When it all was done, it sounded beautiful. There was no doubt in her mind that people would love this new sound. It added that certain "something" that it missed.

"Couldn't have written it better myself," John had said with a smirk, knowing completely the very meaning to what he said.

"You think you're so funny," said Sandra, shaking her head at his antics. She thought of how John was sharper than anyone else in the room, but spent all his time being the joker that you would never know it.

Stop thinking, it's nearly midnight and you need your sleep, she shouted at herself inside her mind, coming back to the empty house that encased her. Marian still wasn't home yet it seemed. Sandra picked up the note from that evening and disposed of it, seeing as how it served no purpose now. She then found herself passed out in her bed just a few seconds later. As she slept, her dreams were filled with the new melodies she had learned that day.

1964

What was guessed to be the last snow of the season had now melted into a light slush that covered the grass and pavement. Everything was still cold; most especially the wind that blew through the city, but on that rare occasion a hint of warmth could touch someone. Still, time in this season was best spent inside, out of any kind of damp, cool atmosphere. No one would want to be out and about in this, and yet Sandra was, if only for a minute.

She had a jacket and boots on over her pajamas, obviously not matching but not caring about the matter. She was only out to walk from the house, to the mailbox, and then back inside. She decided on getting the newspaper that was laying on the side of the road, becoming drenched, while she was at it. She approached the mail box and grabbed the few envelopes that lingered inside, retrieved the newspaper, and hurried back into the house. She removed her shoes and went to the dinning room to look over the letters.

Sandra loved to get letters. It seemed to be becoming a rarity to get an actual one, what with telephones and television taking over a lot of things. She felt like she must have been her grandparents at that moment. She didn't know what to do; was she to keep a hold onto the old, or evolve like the rest of the world and except it? For now at least, she would appreciate the time and effort in the written word, more than just punching the keys on the phone.

The young woman slid her fingertips over the white, sealed notes. She took her time to flip them over one by one; seeing who it was for or who it was from, and then either opening it or setting it down.

The first envelope was simple. They were bills, specifically for heat and electricity. She knew that it was going to be expensive because of the extensive usage during this winter. In addition, the house had played host to several ridiculous parties over the time. With the extra amount of people that meant even more spending for things like food, drink, and decorations. Luckily, and for whatever reason, they were still doing alright with money for now.

These parties, if it wasn't obvious, were held by Marian. They were mainly meant to celebrate the holiday season back in December. Christmas and New Years had come and gone, but went out with a bang when they did. People danced to the latest hits, screamed in joy for that last count down, and drank in the end of the year (which Sandra refused to partake in.) Everyone, naturally, stayed up until midnight and probably even much later.

All of the party guests were friends of Marian's. Sandra had invited some of her coworkers that she knew better now to come too, but all either had plans or politely declined. Not knowing the ones that were in her home in the least, she didn't feel guilty about declining the offer to go out and wander the streets in celebration after dark. She returned to her room when everyone had left, not looking forward to cleaning up nor Marian's hangover that would come the next morning.

Almost in bed, Sandra had looked over to the record player that had before been moved out of Marian's room (lack of interest) and into her own.

She shuffled over to it and pulled one of the albums out of the crate that sat below it. She happened to pluck up one of her new favorites. On the cover it held four faces, each half illuminated and the other half faded into the darkness of the background. Flipping it over, she looked over the list of songs, as if she didn't have it memorized already. This was what she had received for Christmas and she was glad that her cousin would know she would appreciate it.

Sandra fiddled with the square case, sliding the vinyl record out of it. She read the words, With the Beatles, for nearly the hundredth time, still thinking about how ironic it was.

She had still never told anyone she had met them.

Sandra was distracted and pulled out of her thoughts by a rumble in her stomach. Food was probably an important matter and something best attended to sooner than late. She usually found this out the hard way while she was at work. The young woman set down the envelopes, fixed herself something, and then picked them back up when she went to the dinning room to eat.

In one hand, she now held a fork with a bite size piece of egg on it. With the other, she pushed the bill of to the side. She was tired of looking at it now. The next on the stack was addressed to Marian, and it wasn't a surprise who it was from.

When Valentine's Day had rolled around, Sandra was introduced to someone new.

She had awoken to a strange knocking on the front door, extremely early in the morning. Not having any inkling of whom on Earth it could be, she threw on a robe over her pajamas and tiptoed down the hallway. She took a peek out of the small window beside the door to see if she could get a good look at whoever it was, but her attempts were in vain. It was still before sunrise; but whoever it was must have had a good reason for coming here now, right? She mustered up all her courage, but then only opened it as far as the small chain latch would allow her to.

Someone poked their face up quite close to the opening.

She recognized the face, but only from verbal descriptions of him, never from actually meeting him in real life. His hair was short and plastered to his head, showing off all of his facial features without any hanging in his face. He had thin, expressive eyebrows with bright eyes sitting underneath them. His lips were very pink and his ears oddly stuck out of his head like an elephant's. Aside from his odd proportions, maybe he could have been seen as a handsome man. Well, Sandra knew someone who thought so.

"I'm here to see Marian," he spoke up. His voice was full of bass and quite loud even for a whisper. All and all though, Sandra's assumptions were now correct. This man was Lawrence Gilroy, the man that Marian was engaged to. He was the 'rich, beautiful business man born in Scotland.' He really wasn't what the young woman imagined from her cousin's descriptions. Marian had always played him up as an angel in human skin, or that he was built like a Greek statue of marble. But what do I know? Sandra told herself. She was just basing this on him standing on the porch and speaking no more than a sentence to her.

"Oh, sure, you must be Lawrence," said Sandra. She was going to shake his hand on introduce herself, but he had already strolled inside, walked a bit past her, and was now looking around the house from where he stood. She shut the door behind him, locking it once again. She didn't know if he had ever been here before, but then assumed that he had. As Lawrence wandered forward, it showed that he was hiding a bouquet of roses behind his back. "She's still asleep."

"Well, I expected so," he chuckled. Though he knew that fact, he still moseyed down the hallway to the side where Marian's room was. He turned the knob quietly and then snuck in. For some reason, Sandra didn't find herself objecting at all. Maybe this was just a normal circumstance between these two. And in addition to that it was now, technically, St. Valentine's Day. Or night.

An ear piercing scream erupted from the back room, which caught Sandra's attention, but then was replaced by laughs and giggles, which got rid of her split second of fear. The two certainly sounded happy together. Unsure of what to do, and particularly too tired to care, Sandra simply decided on going back to bed. She returned but lied awake, kept up by the footsteps and other noises that filled the house as Marian and Lawrence spent the rest of the Valentine's together.

The young woman flipped over the next envelope on the table. She was almost finished her breakfast now. When she saw the words on the outside of the envelope, she saw that it was something that she dreaded opening more than anything. She put on a brave face and ripped open the paper it was in. Unfolding the notes inside, her eyes scanned through until she reached the end and also the very important verdict.

'Rejected,' it read.

Sandra growled and glared at the paper, as though it would be able to feel insulted, then crumpled it up and threw it hard to the rubbish bin. She had missed by about a foot. Sighing, she stood up in a huff and went to pick it up to throw it away properly and then returned to the table to open the last one. This one too, was meant for her. She studied it for a second, seeing that it was just a plain, white envelope like all the others, but with no return address. She was curious.

This time, she used her clean butter knife to peel open the sealed top. Peeking through the nicely cut edges, Sandra pulled out the piece of paper and began to read it.

Dear Sandra,

Hope I got your last name right; Ringo was having trouble remembering. Sure the postman won't get all that upset about it. But that aside, onto what I was actually writing you about.

We just finished out little tour of America. It's great over here, but we can barely go anywhere without the girls running up and catching onto us or without some sort of disguise or someone watching our backs. I guess what I really should be saying is that the hotels in America are pretty nice. And the views from the high floors were too. That's pretty much all we've really gotten to see. Still nice though, none-the-less.

We were on the telly; don't know if you knew that. That guy, Ed Sullivan, I don't know if you've ever heard of him. Well he's got this big talk show and we got to perform this big set for it. You should have seen all the people, and then all the people watching at home. Tens of thousand of them. We would sing just one line, and then they would scream. Or they were just shouting our names from their seats. No idea how they actually listened to the music, it was crazy.

The songs we played through were All My loving, Please Please Me, Till Their Was You (pretty sure you said you really liked that one,) She Loves You, I Wanna Hold Your Hand. It was over a few weeks though, not all in one. Paul had to sing the lead on nearly all of them, but he said that the fans made it all worth it. But now we're coming home, on the 22nd, I think. So you've better be ready to celebrate.

The other guys send their love. Personally, I don't think you should accept it after they put me under all the pressure to write this, but it's up to you.

Soon you soon,

George Harrison

His signature was straight and perfect, with the 'g's being significantly bigger than the rest of the name. The ink was dark blue, and she noticed were it had smudged in certain places, or the one or two times he crossed out a word and rewrote it because of not being able to erase.

Sandra was finally beginning to realize that there must have been something special about her relationship with these four boys. One of them could have had the opportunity to elope with some American girl for all she knew. And then yet, here was George, writing to her to just to give her updates on how life was going, on behalf of the whole band. She didn't know why they did this but decided she should stop questioning in and just live in this amazing moment.

That's what John told be to from the beginning…

The young woman now knew what he really meant and regretted arguing about it with him. Trying to get her mind off of it, she washed her dishes, and then moved to couch in the other room, turning on the television. It was a joint purchase between her and her cousin recently. It seemed so many families had one now, that it was time they had one of their own. She had turned it on but not bothered to change the channel. The news interview that was currently on had the Beatles on it.

They're haunting me, she jokingly told herself.

What time was it now? Nearly noon, Sandra saw looking over to the wooden clock that ticked on the wall. And the date was told to her by the calendar beside the clock. It was the twenty-second now! The postal service must not have been very good at getting things delivered on time when they were coming over seas or something to that extent.

For whatever reason, Sandra didn't feel the need to get up and rush to get ready on the chance that George had actually meant what he wrote about celebrating. She continued to sit comfortably in her seat with the channel sitting on the Pathe News, watching the four boys at a distance on the screen. She saw their black and white figures that were being interviewed by some random news reporter. They gave their off the wall comments about the trip to America and Sandra would laugh along with them whenever they said something funny.

The four were pressured on about their work, staying in millionaires' houses, the fans, and their money. Apparently, the only difference between the English and American fans was their accents. One of them had come up and cut a piece of Ringo's hair out. They discussed their meeting with a man called Cassius Clay and how the sun was so great in Miami. There were a few topics that stunned Sandra, and she was making a mental note to ask them about it later.

Right now, on the television though, they were the rest of the world's Beatles, not her's.

When the interview was finally over and the regular news returned, Sandra then made her way into the back of the house. She woke up Marian, just to spite her, cleaned up, and got ready for the rest of the day. There was that chance that they would be coming over after all.

After Marian stubbornly got up from ungracefully being awoken by her cousin, the two reclined in the living room. Sandra was dressed nicely, with a smooth coat of makeup on, while Marian still refused to get dressed if she didn't absolutely have to. She was planning on spending this lazy Saturday for nothing except for pure relaxation.

The television showed just a few highlights from the Beatles interview that was showed on the same channel about an hour or so ago. Just some of the moments of the boys were shown before returning to the news that spoke of local incidents and anything else it felt its viewers need to know.

"That John sure is a looker," said Marian, as if she was just thinking out loud. Sandra really didn't expect something like that to come out of her mouth and was really unsure if she should say something or just pretend show didn't hear it. Her body reacted before she could actually decide and she shot Marian a look which was only returned with, "Well excuse me for noticing."

"I didn't say anything," responded Sandra coyly, "But really Miss Getting-Married-In-Two-Months, should you be saying something like that?"

"No," said Marian, "I shouldn't, but I did though, so deal with it." She stuck out her tongue at the end of her sentence.

On that note, Sandra remembered the letter from earlier. She retrieved it from the kitchen and handed it to her cousin, whose face lit up on reading it. She tore into it and read it in a trance of deep focus. Marian's expressions rose and dropped as her eyes went carefully along each and every line. When she finally put it down, finished, a cheeky grin was plastered across her face.

"Why does he hardly visit?" Sandra asked. She truly had been wondering that for a very long time. That Valentine's Day was actually the only time she had ever seen Lawrence. Shouldn't Marian and he be spending every waking moment together or something along those lines? In two months the two of them would be running away to another country together. Sandra would be left to have to move out and fend completely by herself. It was only to be expected though.

He's busy most of the time working late shifts and such," Marian chattered on, "He comes and visits a lot! Mostly when you're at work or when I go over to his place when I get off. We don't want to corrupt your innocent mind just yet." Sandra rolled her eyes.

"You should still invite him over again soon, when I'm around. If he's going to be my," she paused to think for a moment, "cousin-in-law then I need to see him more than once, to see what you're getting into."

"Yeah, well he doesn't-" Marian stopped instantly at the sound knocking at the front door. Looking over to it, she winced and made an annoying grunt that said, 'You go get it.'

Sandra unenthusiastically did so, maneuvering her way off of the sofa and around the coffee table. She opened the door only to have a hand reach in a grab her roughly by the arm and pull her outside all in nearly a split second. She had no time to react. She was at a loss for words, not being able to tell who it was from the speed that it all happened and with all of the worry she was capable of overwhelming her. In the flurry she searched for a face, and found luckily found it in the harsh eyes of John.

"Borrowing her for a bit," John practically shouted, attempting to lean his head into the doorway, but was in to much of a rush to actually get the job done. Marian now stood there, having gotten up in a flash.

"Its fine," Sandra had finally formed some words to assure her cousin she was safe. Her breathing was heavy as she spoke, still in a bit of a shock, "I'm fine." John gave her a pleading look and ushered her on to the sleek, black car on the road. This one was much nicer than the one she had rode in before. They walked on, with Sandra turning her head around, mouthing clearly, 'John Lennon,' and pointing to him with her free hand.

She wished she could have seen Marian's expression but there was no time for that.

Their speed walk turned into a full out run by the time they were no longer shielded behind the walls of the house. Someone inside the car pushed it open, to which John pushed her in. There were a few unrecognizable clicks, some incoherent murmurs outside the car, and then he hopped inside as well. He shut the door behind him and directed the driver to pull away, quickly.

Sandra was taking everything in and trying to process it. Brian drove, Ringo sat comfortably in the passenger's seat, and she, Paul, George, and John were cramped in the back. It was fairly dark, which was caused by the tinted windows in addition to the clouded sky outside. She saw the neighborhood disappearing into the horizon out of the rear window. A small group of photographer huddled around each other. Oh boy, she told herself, that's what that clicking was.

Photographers of this sort never looked like good news.

"Come here," Paul spoke up, grabbing Sandra by the same arm that John had. It was getting a bit sore now, but she cast it away, figuring they just didn't know their own strength. Or that she wasn't in the best shape right now to be handled like that. She was pulled over to sit oddly and crookedly between Paul and George. Half of her was sitting on Paul's thigh and the other half sat on the single inch of cushion that was available. She worried more over how her hand was digging into George's side.

The many attempts she made to reposition herself were met with failure, and in addition to that some jeers and some other comments that where she was was as good as it would get. Sandra was becoming frustrated, giving up and barking, "What's going on here?"

"Saving you from spending another day without us," said Paul, charmingly. Sandra didn't want to turn her head to look at him. She was nearly placed right under his chin from this spot now, and would rather not be confronted with a direct view of his neck.

"Did you not get me letter?" George asked her. It was much easier to look at him, seeing as how there was enough distance for it not to be terribly oafish.

"Hey," Ringo cut it, "I came up with some of that too."

"I actually wrote it," George said back, waving his hands around. "pens and paper and all that sort of stuff, ya' know."

"Yes, I got it," said Sandra, "only just this morning. I wasn't actually expecting you all to show up or anything. I need better warnings for these things!"

"Nah, I think it's more fun to see you get all riled at us like this," John remarked. As only normal, the four boys laughed at his jests. Sandra only crossed her arms over her chest, which only seemed to prove his point more. She tried to play along with it, closing her eyes and sticking her nose high into the air. She crossed her legs, only to be knocked off her balance by a speed bump that was in the road entering the urban area. Simple to say, there was much more laughter.

Sandra tried to regain her composure, keeping her to-good-for-you act on, but it failed. She shook her head and cackled at herself. They always said, if you can't beat 'em, join them. She found things were a bit more fun when she did.

"What would your wife say to you laughing at another woman, Mr. Lennon?" said Sandra through snickers. She didn't mean to bring it up right now, it had just slipped out. That was okay though, now would be a fine time if any. There were many odd responses.

"How did you know about that?"

"Shhhh, it's a secret!"

"John, married? When did that happen?"

"I don't think she'd mind as long as I wasn't shacking up with her."

The last response was John's own. He said it through a devilish smile. The tone of his voice sounded to be pretty uncaring about the whole subject. Sandra's mind ran once more to the relationship between Marian and Lawrence. These responses didn't sound to match in the slightest. Maybe these things were just different for everything, like most normal situations were.

"I'm only sure…" she trailed off, instantly wanting to change the subject. She began, "So, in reality, where are we really headed off to today?"

"Another interview," said Paul in a chipper tune, "then off to play a bit at some club and then we'll dance the night away. I promised you we would a while back." He was grinning ear to ear right now, Sandra knew it.

"Well then," she said, "we've got so much to do in so little time to do it." This was getting her out of the house for a night and she was lucky enough to spend it with some of the best guys she had ever had the pleasure of getting to know. She still had a lot to learn, but she decided right then and there that she was going to stick around long enough to do so. "Let's make the most of it."

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><p><em>There we have it. Umm… Sandra has stupid conflicting personality problems depending on who she's with…? It makes sense in my head. I really hope she's not just coming off as whiny or annoying to you guys ;u;<em>

_Totally opposite note/about the author facts: I really have a problem with relationships in fanfics being much too rushed, or love at first site sort of deals. Yes, it does happen, but it's just not really my thing. So I take a while introducing SandraxWho, because I like to keep it a bit wild and fun before she is pushed into a serious, committed relationship. I mean, we all know how John and Cyn worked out, so we don't want that kind of situation for Sandra do we?_

_Alright, I'll shut up now. I'll say this chapter will be all of your guys' early Christmas presents~ I hope you all do have a beautiful Christmas (or whichever you celebrate) and a happy New Year! (PS- Another present will be me revealing that there is a guaranteed sequel to this story, when we get to that point._

_Happy Holidays~_


	8. Just to Dance with You

_I wasn't expecting to get this one out here this soon, but here we go, just in time for the New Year! This chapter isn't my best work, but it will do…? You tell me. More of an actual T rated chapter I think, some of you will probably like that haha And there's some fluff (if you want to call it that) and I know that you want that!_

_Well, happy reading then! Reviews, possibly, when you're done?_

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><p><strong>Chapter 8:<strong>  
><strong>Just to Dance with You<strong>

The brakes cranked to a stop that only took a second. Brian was sure being an uneasy driver today, but that being said, he was under just as much pressure as the boys were. The car had stopped at the side of a large theater-like building. The parking lot overflowed with people; from reporters, camera crews, and just random pedestrians. The street to the side was another sight.

There were girls surrounding the front entrance. They came in all shapes and sizes, but for the same obvious reason they were all here. The young ones held their mother's hands, older ones screamed and jeered without reason, and the ones in near adulthood acted much younger than they were.

Sandra felt the need to scoff at their immaturity or complain over the loud noise, but she knew if she was out there with them she would be doing the same exact thing. Policemen patrolled the area and guarded the entrance sturdily in case one of the girls tried to get out of line or caused any problems for them. What would happen if they mistook Sandra for one of the wild fans?

"The sooner we get this done and over with, the sooner you all get your free time," said Brian, taking charge. He had switched the car off, turned around, and leaned in. It was like he was laying out the game plan for some sports match. "Now, err, Ms. Baxter, stay close to me. They've got to do this taping for a couple of minutes and we'll wait in the back."

Understanding him completely, Sandra only nodded. It would probably be best if she remained out of sight for the important event. This was how rumors spread, and she wanted nothing of that sort. What would people think? She didn't want people antagonizing her for connections to her friends in high places. Maybe she was over reacting a bit. She was nothing near famous, nor was ever familiar with the lime light, aside from a poem she wrote when she was seven for the school paper.

Even now, when she was writing articles nearly everyday, no one knew her name.

"Ready for it?" Ringo asked everyone in the car. In a wave of excitement the four boys burst from their seats. John out the left, Ringo out of the front, Paul out the left, and George having to climb over Sandra to follow behind him. The young lady watched them scatter into the side entrance and disappear, luckily not grabbing any unwanted attention. Brian took his time, pocketing the key and then directed Sandra to come with him.

He kept a firm grip on her shoulder, she figured it was to keep her close and safe. She had read the wild stories of fans jumped and lashing out onto the band, but that couldn't happen to her. She couldn't let it happen. Was she going to be in the risk of that now because of being with them?

As they entered, Sandra noticed the cold stones of greys and browns that made up the wall and went down into a curved hallway that never ended. Doors shot off every few feet, probably filled with wardrobes and powder rooms. This place looked too old to be a film studio but also too new to be a theater. It might just be a one time deal for this interview, she thought, trying to drop the matter. Brian still moved her along, into one of the green doors. The room they went into smelled of old linoleum and grass. Very strange.

The Beatles all huddled around a clothing rack in the middle of the spacious room. The semi-causal sweaters they had been wearing were replaced by the suits and ties of the image that was made for them. They messed with collars, tried buttoning and unbuttoning things, and eventually had themselves fixed up quite nicely.

"We used to look really slick," said John, leading the herd over to the mirrors to comb their hair out, "leather, tight pants, all the works. Then Eppie made us go and get all refined." Sandra got an image in her head of John darned in a leather jacket, plaid shirt underneath, probably even a quiff hair style on his head. That would have really been a sight.

"With good reason too I bet," said Sandra back. She found a stool to rest on off to the side, not wanting to get in the way.

"Every bird likes the bad boys," said John confidently. He was acting a lot more like this today. Sandra blamed it on the wife comment from earlier that she just had to bring up. He was probably trying to prove a point of some sort. She felt a storm brewing but was really not interested in getting into it with him.

"Not every 'bird'," Sandra remarked, not even thinking about what she was saying. She couldn't tell if anyone was listening though, for they all were busy with either putting classy shoes on or playing with their hair.

"Sure thing," John said sarcastically. He didn't bother to look her in the eye. He pulled on his pointed right shoe. "So what about you then?"

Sandra stayed quiet. She herself not knowing if this quietness was brought on by her trying to properly answer the question or if she just wasn't understanding it completely.

"What's your type of guy, he means," put in Paul. Apparently he was listening in from over by the mirror. His hair was neat and by his relaxed leaning against it, looking ready to go out.

"Well," she couldn't really figure out an answer to be honest, "I don't really- I just haven't had enough experience, I guess, to decide on a 'type.'" For just a second, the four stopped what they were doing to give her the same blank look. She stammered, "Sorry!"

"They're asking for you," said Brian, walking back in through the doorway. Honestly, Sandra hadn't even noticed that he had left. "It'll be over before you know it." He was talking to the four young men. Playful whines filled the air but they were still going to do their jobs. They all hopped up and over to the door. Just this one thing and they were free.

"How do I look?" George asked coyly. He was standing in front of Sandra, who had also gone over to the door in means to wish them good luck. George had his hands stuffed down into his pants pockets. Sandra was more focused on his question though.

She muttered one little thing, spinning him around by his shoulders to fix the white shirt collar that stuck up in the back because of his tie. She turned him back around, looking over him once more, and straightened the shirt out. "Magnificent," she said and smiled at her handy work; it did help just a bit. George beamed down at her.

"Guess the quiet one's her type," Paul announced on the way out the door. Sandra sputtered with her speech once more.

"He asked for help, so I gave it to him," she defended.

"That was acting more like his mum than anything if you ask me."

"Nobody asked you, Ringo."

They had vanished from sight and a wave of serene silence took over the now empty room. With the boys and Brian now out of earshot no voices could be heard. Luckily, not even the vast number of reporters and photographers that were on the far side of the building waiting for them. These moments of unexpected calm were seen as beautiful to Sandra.

Retreating back to her stool from before, the young woman sat uncomfortably on the metal and tried to find a proper comeback to say to the four, did they even mention it when they returned. She had only fixed George's tie; was it really all that big of a deal to them? It wouldn't be if you hadn't gone and said he was marvelous, she scolded herself. All four of them looked nice, so why did she have to go and say it out loud as if it were just for him? Because he asked you, it is as simple as that.

No. She was going to stop right there. The thought would be cast away, just like that. No questions asked. It never happened.

Within just a few minutes Sandra was daydreaming. They were just random things and pictures in her head to pass the time. That was an average thing for her when there were no activities to tend to. She thought of something that she should have been doing this whole time, since she first met the Beatles. She couldn't remember if she had brought her purse with her. No, she scratched that idea for she didn't have any of her things. It would have to wait until she got home.

The silence was broken by the doorknob giggling. Sandra spun around carefully on the stool to face the door. Brian had entered once more. He paced around the room as though he was looking for something, but then stopped when he nearly did a complete circle around it. He sat down on the chair near the center of the room. He casually began talking about topics of his business and the recording sessions. The young woman didn't know if he was actually talking to her or himself.

She didn't say a word. It was like he was just trying to get his schedule out and ready to take action on it, it wasn't an actual discussion. The way Brian spoke seemed almost regal, at least compared to how she, the boys, and most people she knew spoke. John, Paul, George, and Ringo were born and raised in Liverpool and sounded just like how the "lower class" did.

Sandra moved very often (she had to explain this to John once) so she really wasn't sure were her voice came from. She had lived most of her childhood and early teen years in Manchester, later moving to St. Helens for a while, followed by Liverpool for a single year, and then back to Manchester for the last years living at home. She must have had the most stupid hybrid of a voice ever. It most likely would be a North-Western one if she was forced to decide.

Brian's was completely different though. Sandra had thought he had also lived his life in Liverpool, but he sounded nothing like the others. He sounded well educated and extremely proper. Under the sense of sternness there was infinite loads of caring. He was done speaking of the next few days' worth of a break and how they would have to get make moving after it, and rambled on about the boys. Sandra picked up that he mentioned John more than any of the others.

Brian began asking Sandra questions. She didn't know why he did but it was making it feel like an interrogation room. The questions were mainly business involved. About her job, her life, and other things she had discussed in very little detail and the boys and Mal. Then he got a bit more serious, asking about if she was there to sell stories she found out about them. She was offended by the assumption at first, but then calmly answered 'no,' knowing it was probably something that was common.

There was then a final question, which threw Sandra for a loop: was she involved with any of them?

"What exactly does that mean?" she asked, just to make sure she heard him correctly.

"Are you involved with any of them, currently," said Brian, leaning to the edge of his seat. He was obviously implying the worst while trying to be discreet about it.

"No, I'm not, we're all just friends," she could already feel her face becoming flushed and her hands clammy. It would look like she was lying, which made her more worried. In addition to that, that kind of thing was really not what she wanted to think of at the moment. "Sorry… I don't know why I got so, worked up about it."

"You're fine," and with that the conversation was dropped entirely. In just a few moments after the conversation, heavy footsteps found their way back to the room. It was no longer silent. The commonness that was laughter and humored conversation had entered along with Ringo, Paul, George, and John.

"Let's go!" announced John, pointing a slender finger to the back exit. The agreements rang out and they group went for the door. Brian opened it first and was able to the wave of girls that surrounded, blocking the way in nearly every direction. They all shouted at seeing the boys and dove like rabid animals to get closer. Policemen everywhere pushed them back and restrained them, making just enough room to get to the car. Sandra held her head low, on the minuscule chance that _someone_ might see her.

The door was pulled open and they charged inside. This time, Sandra getting the window seat to herself, not having to sit on uncomfortably Paul. Ringo was in the middle, George on the right, Paul in the passenger's seat, and John trying to seat himself on the back of the broad armrest. The pulled away in a hurry, no different from before, but this time more carefully because of the sea of people.

"We're never going anywhere with this many fucking people again," spat John.

Sandra was sunk down in her seat, feet folded up close to here. She really didn't want any of the people, more specifically other females, looking in on her.

"Settle down, we'll be there before you know it," said Ringo, trying to be the peacekeeper. And he was right because in just a few minutes they were down a number of different streets and at a club that Sandra had never heard of. The sun was nearly set now. She had missed out on seeing the fading of oranges and reds, and was left with a darkness that held a tint of yellow. It was still beautiful in its own way none-the-less.

Brian dropped them off and disappeared, leaving the five of them to venture into the brick building that had a few people wandering past it. They filed in the door to see many groups of people. Some danced around on the middle of the floor, some lingered around a bar in the back, and others sat at the tables on the side. Sandra didn't know what to expect, never being to a place like this before, but this must have just been it. She wasn't about to tell them that though.

She was living with a different kind of people now. Before, she had grown up in a much conserved, upper-middle class family. She was taught to be a "good girl" and it was simple as that. She would listen to her mother's every whim and never second guess it. It was just the way she was raised. She could have never gotten away with coming to a place like this and hearing the music of Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, or anyone else that was being played loudly there that night.

Paul and John took the lead, ordering drinks at the bar. Sandra kept close to them, but kept her eyes on the variety of people who looked exhausted from dancing. She took the glass that George passed down to her, not bothering to look at it. This was probably nothing compared to the amount of people that would be there later. She took a sip of the drink. Her eyes widened and her throat burned though it was actually cold. She had to force herself not to drop the glass or cough hysterically.

"What was-" she didn't even bother finishing the question. It was absolutely putrid-at first-but something in her mind persuaded her to try it again. The second time it still tasted no better but it seemed to numb her taste buds. She had heard stories of people fainting at places like these due to overexerting themselves and lack of hydration, so if this was the only liquid she had she would take it just to be on the safe side. Then she realized what it was though.

"You can't expect me to drink this kind of thing!" she looked like an idiot practically shouting at the air beside her. Ringo was the only one there still, leaning an elbow on the counter to hold his head up. He looked so amused. She got stern with him, "Stop smiling." Of course, he didn't and it only grew if anything. Sandra was frustrated and the childish part of her told her it best to go off and sit down at one of the tables at the side. She roughly set the glass down on the counter, still mostly full, and stomped off.

She then plodded back to the counter, grabbed the cup again, and took it with her. This got her more laughs from Ringo and some confused looks from random men who were watching the scene play out.

Sandra's time alone sitting was only spent watching the few more girls walk in the front door and seeing the sky turn pitch-dark out of a small window. Paul was working up a sweat on the dance floor with an unidentifiable red-haired girl and John lit a cigarette and hid on one of the back walls, out of site of anyone who would be working there. Her drink was finished now as was her second. She wasn't happy about it at all, but she had still done it. _They're a terrible influence on me,_ was the excuse she went with.

"You look tired," said a voice loudly over the even louder music. George had appeared out of nowhere. Sandra wanted to agree completely as an excuse to get out of there. She wasn't having the fun she was promised and the place was starting to seem pretty sketchy and not "family friendly." But she didn't say anything like that at all.

"Come dance with me," she put out there. She was afraid it came out more like a command than an idea, but what was said was said. He looked off as though it was going to take him a while to decide, but then turned back to her and lead her out to the floor. There were the giant amount of possibilities that she could screw up whatever dancing abilities she had but she was taking the chance. She was blaming it all on the alcohol.

When she found the rhythm she found herself dancing around in step with George. It was more just hopping around and shaking back and forth, but it was what everyone else was doing so it must have been right. She wanted to slap the grin that was on her face off of it, but she couldn't deny it; this was fun and she didn't get enough of it on a normal basis. George as usual had his sly grin on when he wasn't busy mouthing the words to the song that played.

There were no slow songs in a place like this. Everything was constantly in motion and a flow of energy swept threw everyone. Sandra and George were distanced for most of it, until he would grab her by the hand and happily spin her around where she stood or any other move that would add to the excitement. Another man who was on the floor tried to cut in, but Sandra just pretended she didn't see him until he left and laughed about it when he was gone. She really wasn't looking to dance with someone she didn't know who could've been more plastered than she was.

After about three songs Sandra was done. That was her exercise for the winter months, no doubt. She never really took a second to realize how much of a sweat you could break for something fun like that. She and George had lingered over to the bar again and he handed her another drink, presumably of the same thing. They sat down at a table. After she took another drink, Sandra let out a 'Whooo' that went along with Roll Over Beethoven played by Chuck Berry.

"Doesn't take much to get you blitzed," George mused, sliding Sandra's drink away from her undetectably.

"I don't know" she said back, noticing Paul (with the girl from before) and Ringo wandering over to them. "I've never been before, so maybe this is what it's like." Words kept spilling out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. The part of her mind that she could think with was functioning fine, it was the part were it told the rest of her body what to do that was the problem. She was never drinking anything ever again unless she was sure it was water, tea, or soda.

"The only thing like that I've ever had was when I was when I had a communion when I was seven," she rambled happily, but on the inside was telling herself,_ Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._ She needed to keep herself preoccupied in the time being and from doing anything stupid.

"Well you sound happy," said Paul, pulling the red-head onto his lap when he sat down at the table. Sandra could see George from beside her holding up two fingers and then mouthing, 'She's out of it.' Sandra was going to turn to him and give some snide comment but got out of it by taking up Ringo's offer to go dance with him.

At least two hours had past, full of laughs, singing, and cavorting around the building. Out of nowhere it was nearing eleven o'clock. The teenagers had gone and it was mostly replaced by flirtatious young men and women.

"I'll probably need to be getting home soon," said Sandra hesitantly, not wanting to be a spoiled-sport for the others. She now had a headache, which from her cousin's displays, was just going to be one hundred times worse in the morning. Never ever again am I doing this, she decided. It really wasn't worth just the hour or so of excitement.

"You're probably right," said Ringo, looking over to Paul. He in turn looked to the girl with him and told her to go get her friend to bring John back. She grudgingly did so. Sandra wondered why she hadn't seen John the whole evening; that must have been the explanation.

The while later John did return, looking unkempt and frustrated. He was always either looking stern or being a complete flirt, Sandra noted. There had to be some other side of him. Her brain no sense in telling her that they were the same, only opposites. While she always showed a quiet face on the outside her mind tended to be overgrown with more complex and wild thoughts. Maybe John was on the other end of the spectrum. On the outside he stayed rambunctious but the inside might be reserved.

She would never really know what went on inside a person like him.

In the time of waiting George had called up Mal to ask if he was free to pick them up. He apparently was and got there quickly. They exited the building as the same group they entered as. Sandra had to hold her head as her eyes went black and fuzzy for a few seconds when they went outside. She then groggily called, "I get shotgun," and dashed to the front. She felt sick enough as it was, and preferred not to have four boys lingering around her.

They rode silently home in the smoke filled car and that was no problem at all. Sandra was reminded of the plan she thought up in the evening. When she got home she wanted to begin to write down the little adventures she was having with the band. It would be a good way to remember the fun, give her something to actually write about, and might just be worth a lot of money some day. Not tonight though, she figured, tomorrow when- if – I have the energy.

Pulling up in front of her house she thought of just one more thing before going to bed.

"I might be moving sometime soon," she said, not sure what kind of reaction to get, "I don't really know when, but if it's before I see you guys again I'll let you know of the address, somehow."

There were understanding nods and that was it. Everyone seemed to be feeling the burden of the late hours now. They then all said their goodbyes and let Sandra get out of the car and walk herself to the door. A rude greeting was waiting inside.

"What was that?" shouted Marian at her. Sandra winced at the bright lights coming from nearly every room in addition to her cousin's volume. She ran a hand over her forehead and sighed, then got worried over if her breath smelled like alcohol or not. Marian didn't stop, "You were out all night with that so-called 'John Lennon.' Where were you? Are you drunk or something?"

"I'm going to bed," Sandra replied harshly, taking off her shoes and trudging down the hall. When Marian tried to badger her more, she said, "You aren't my mother, enough with the questions."

"By the way," said Marian in a sing-song voice, "your mother called while you were gone."

Sandra's eyes widened. She didn't want to deal with that now or anytime later.

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><p><em>Okay. Not particularly happy with that chapter. I'm terrible with romance even in small bits. Also, Sandra's "drunkness," I've never been drunk before, so I have no clue what it's like. That just me, trying to do it without her being completely out of it. Also, I don't know how to portray Brian… Blah, okay, I just wasn't happy with this chapter. I have these really good ideas, but they're all take place in the later years, but I have to get through these chapters first. whine whine_

_Stick with me here~_


	9. Your Mother Should Know

_It's so late, I know, please don't hurt me. My computer died because of viruses and whatever other crap happened to it, so I had to rewrite what I had done. And as most writers have, it's just not as good the second time so I lost my urge to write it. Then, I had to borrow my mom's computer to write this, and well, she's very clingy about her facebooking time soooo... To get to the point, this is really up to par in my opinion, but maybe everyone is just that hard on there own writing. _

_Also, everyone out there: THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! If I don't get back to you via replies, don't take it personallly, I'm just not the most social person and I worry about how to reply "correctly." _ _I do read them all and appreciate every. single. one. If you could see my face when I get that email telling me of another wonderful person who has taken the time to tell me what they think of all my blood and tears in the hard work here x3_

_One more thing and then you can read! There is a poll on my profile for you to answer about who you want/or think Sandra will end up with. I know you guys have been doing good about writing your ideas in the reviews, but polls are nice and tidy haha So if you get the chance, go on over there please. Thanks~ Reading time now!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 9:<br>Your Mother Should Know **

The room was silent, even too silent if that was possible. The new bedroom was small and cramped, as was the rest of the flat. There were no sort of decorations as everything was left alone, just like it was when Sandra mad moved into the building. White walls matched the white ceiling. They however didn't match some of the dark brown furniture that she was able to bring with her. It was just what she could afford by herself, even with the promotion she had gotten.

It was April now, just after she had finally picked out and finalized on a place to stay. Marian was gone now, off and married to Lawrence and living happy (she assumed) abroad. They had still decided to be in contact through occasional letter, though none had been sent so far.

There was an unkempt pile of papers on the writing desk that Sandra had brought from Marian and her's house. These papers were all letters that she had begun but never finished. There weren't any words that fit nor that were suitable to express her feelings. Across from those letters was a plain, spiraled notepad. It was flipped open to the next empty page, ready to be written in. She was keeping a journal.

The journal was used for one thing: to remember her little misadventures with the Beatles. Sandra had begun by remembering back to the prior year, when she first met them on the train. She wrote of every moment that she was holding onto. Now they were on paper for her to have always. She went on in detail about the phone calls, the recording studio, the letter, and the night dancing. She was to the point where she was afraid she might have been getting obsessed.

That was only natural; every other girl in the world was the same way.

Sandra was in no real rush to get up, until she realized she had made plans today. She needed desperately to go down to market. Food supply was running low which was never a good sign. She might also get a few more odds and ends for the flat if she happened to get the chance to. She would have to get up, get dressed, and do just that this morning. They day might let her do that, or it might end up having plans of it's own.

The weather was warming finally. It now allowed shorter skirts and sleeves, with maybe the optional addition of a light sweater. She wore just that and went on out to the car. She was so grateful that she managed to keep it as well as some of the rest of her furniture. The sun was out today with barely any clouds. The day was certainly looking optimistic and promising, even if for just a short little drive into town. Town, actually wasn't that far at all. Sandra's flat was much closer to the business quarter than where she was living before.

When Sandra finally pulled up to the store, thankful it was opened this early, she rummaged for the bare necessities. Milk, eggs, lettuce, bread, flour, and just other things she really need. She was losing a bit of weight because of her bad eating habits and it was starting to worry her. On one hand, her almost vegetarian-like diet could be seen as particularly good, but on the other hand, when she wasn't eating enough of it, it was not so good. There were just so many other payments to be made on so many other things. She was trying her best to spend it wisely but it was hard because she was never faced with a situation like this before.

After filling the shopping bag with her collection of things, Sandra stood in line to check out. She was behind another woman, about her age, waiting on the clerk who looked much to young to be doing a job like this, or any job for that matter. Sandra turned to the magazine rack to her left and calmly pulled out a brightly colored, teenybopper just for fun. Casually, she looked at one page after another, not really studying them all too much. She recognized the variety of famous young men and women and saw the titles of how you could easily 'get their look' or 'check to see if you were type.' She bit on her lip and ignored them mostly, until one thing she saw in there saw her.

This section of the book was full of any gossip in the lives of celebrities, which was only normal, but what startled her was that the photograph on the bottom left corner of the page was taken in front of she and Marian's house. It showed the side of a black car at the very edge. In the center stood a man, covered in warm clothes and and light brown hair. Well, at least, Sandra knew it was brown even though every picture in the magazine was in black and white. Next to the man walked a woman with hair that went just below her shoulders and lightly from the apparent wind. The headline above it read, _'Does Beatle Boy John Have a New Squeeze?'  
><em>  
>It was all of Sandra's fears on one sheet of paper. That girl in the picture was obviously her. She knew how easy it was to tell, because she could see it, and that meant anyone could.<p>

Her breath left her lungs as she studied it. She was afraid of how pale she turned at the sight of the picture. The ridiculous idea popped in her head that she could buy every copy of the magazine and no one else would see her. She flipped through the rack. There were ten copies on that on, at least. There was no way she could afford that, and it was probably all over London by now. Maybe even farther than London; Sandra didn't know the demand for that kind of reading. This kind of thing was really just out of her hands.

The magazine was put back carefully when it was her turn to check out. Sandra tried her best to go unnoticed, though there was really no one to hide from in the store anymore. Only the dark skinned boy behind the counter who took her items one by one and put them in the brown paper bag beside him. He took his time, whether meaning to or not. Sandra paid in cash (avoiding in sort of credit for the time being) and rushed back to the car with her bags, putting them in the passenger's seat.

She was on edge for no good reason and she hated it. She began to pull away and turned the car radio on.

_"Can't buy me love..."_was the last line that was heard announcing that that was the Beatles with a new single they had released that was the number one this week. Sandra sighed a heavy sigh. She was not particularly happy to be hearing that at the moment, but she took a breath to try and get herself more focused on the road. It wasn't their fault. She was just stress, or something, she decided.

On the way back home, she tried her best to focus on the moment and get out of her head and luckily it worked for the most part. She parked the car, brought the groceries inside, wanted to get off of her feet already. She knew she couldn't do that though, she had to put her things away, go out and get the mail, and step by step more things were sure to come up. Actually, no, she didn't have anything to do today, aside from brace herself for going back to work the next day. That was a pretty set routine for ending the weekend that she was used to. Not one she looked forward to, but still one that she could handle. There really wasn't anything else to do today.

The phone rang abruptly. Sandra set down the head of lettuce in the refrigerator, put down the brown paper bag on the counter, and rushed over to pick it up. Her grip on the device was tight and she noticed that they were instantly sweaty. _Cool it, _she told herself but it was only made worse for she was not expecting the shaky yet shrill voice on the other end.

"Sandra Jean, where have you been?" the sentence sounded so disapproving, wanting a straight answer from Sandra and nothing else, "Why do you never answer me?"

"Nice to hear from you too Mum," replied Sandra sarcastically and through her teeth, balancing the phone on the cheek and her shoulder. A pleasant conversation was not one she really expected right now. They never were. She wished there was another way for it to, but it was a bit late for that. She had ruined their relationship.

"Well you're alive, not that I would know," said the older woman, "I've been worried sick about you! I haven't talked to you in six months. All you left was a note! Do you know how much that hurt me? I didn't know what kind of trouble you could have been in. It could have been a man who was hurting you or you could have been in trouble with the law, or anything. Are you in trouble? Was it-"

"Mum, it was nothing!" Sandra knew she had to stop her mother some time or she would never stop. What was said was true; Sandra had wrote a note explaining why she felt had to get out of the house and start her own life. She left it in her kitchen early in the morning, cowardly not wanting to face the family when she left. "You would never let me go if you knew about it."

"Exactly," said Sandra's mother, a weak voice trying raise itself, "you aren't old enough to be out there in the world by yourself!"

"Yes I _am._I'm turning twenty-four," she was turning in late May, "so I am an adult. I can do these things for myself." She made it a point not to mention anything about where she as currently living and that her supply of money was slowly depleting.

"So help me- Do not come crying to me when you're hundreds of pounds in debt and there's no one else to look out for you." There was a silence. It was like a calm after the storm. Both mother and daughter were really to stubborn to be the first to say the next word after this abrupt fight. Someone finally took a breath then tried to change the subject.

"How's Robert?" asked Sandra, making up some form of small talk.

"The same," her mother said. Robert Jones was her mother's husband. As of recent he had fallen with what doctors were calling pneumonia, but Sandra knew better. It was lasting much longer than it was supposed to and getting a majority worse with time, not better like the doctors had promised. He would lie in bed, coughing and wheezing. The coughs could be heard coming from deep within his lungs while he shook and his teeth uncontrollably chattered from a cold only he felt. A constant, light fever held onto him.

While Robert was married to Sandra's mother, he was not Sandra's father. Not everyone was aware of that that was the situation, but it was not a secret or anything of the sort. Sandra's biological father had been killed in the war about a year after the girl was born. Mrs. Baxter then married Robert (becoming Mrs. Jones) because she couldn't support Sandra and older brother Michael on her own. In addition to that, the elders in the family did not see it fit for the children not to have a male figure in their lives.

Sandra, though she was no old enough to completely understand, knew that Mr. Jones wasn't really her dad, but excepted him know that her real father wouldn't be returning for whatever reason. She had nothing against Robert and felt what a caring man he was as she grew up, but he still just wasn't a dad to her. He was more just of an uncle who she wasn't all that close to, yet hung around all the time.

"Sorry to hear that..." Sandra trailed off. Her mother was the one who loved him, hot her. Not really.

"Have you heard from Michael?" her mother's voice peeked up in anticipation.

"No," she said, "I haven't." She really didn't want to disappoint her mother farther but it was the truth. No one had heard from Michael in a year. It was just one day that came along that he stopped answering calls, stopped replying to letters, took his wife and moved away. It was like he was scooped up off the Earth and was now gone forever. The family knew not whether to leave him in peace or to go search for him in fear of something that might have happened. There was no way to know where he was, so there was nothing they could.

Was she doing the same thing by leaving with just a simple note that explained that she would be going to live with her cousin to start a new life? That was practically the same thing that Michael had done by isolating the rest of the family out of his life. There was another silence between the two.

"What kind of people have you been associating with?" inquired Mrs. Jones. She sounded awfully suspicious.

"Umm, well, I've been with Cousin Marian for a while," explained Sandra, trying to figure out some way to say the next part of the sentence without actually lying, "and I've made some friends who are pretty successful. They're all good people."

Her mother suddenly sprang something on her. "One of the little neighbor girls said that she was you in one of her magazines this morning." _No!_There was no way that could be possible. News couldn't travel that fast, could it? What were the odds that something like that could happen, and in just those short hours too? Was this the universe's idea of a joke?

"It said you've been seen with those Beatles," her voice held mock and disgust. Sandra's mother held no respect for any form of rock n' roll as well as the people who played it, whether recreationally or professionally. Not that she bothered to give it a chance, she had only put her foot down to it from the moment it became popular to the masses. That was just one of the things that triggered arguments between her and Sandra. Neither wished these arguments upon the other, it was just something that happened.

Their relationship, when Sandra was at a young age, was a good one. The two often went on outings to the park or on trips to Sandra's grandmother's house. As she grew older though, natural teenage rebellion occurred and was made worse by the woman's over protectiveness and sheltering nature. Sandra's lack of courage would often get in the way and ruin things for her when trying to prove her point in a disagreement. In addition, it was only another cowardly act that got her out on her own anyway.

And now, she had to put on a brave face and say something to her mother.

"Yes, I'm friends with them," she said truthfully, biting her lip afterward, wishing she could retract that statement. That could have broken some kind of implied secrecy she had with the boys. Were they even allowed to be seen with acquaintances that casually? Cynthia Powell and her marriage to John had to be kept secret from the public for quite a long while. Fans would not be happy if they saw one of their boys with another girl that wasn't them. "How did she even recognize me from the back of my head?"

"So you've seen the picture and you didn't do anything about it?" her mother said, ignoring the question.

"There's nothing I can do about it Mum," retorted Sandra, shifting her feet back and forth from getting tired of standing to talk on the phone. She knew first hand how the business worked. There were always people coming into her workplace and complaining about the contents or the way one article or another was written. They were always met with people denying them of the change they requested and being asked to leave the building. Plus, it had already been published and sent out for possibly all of England to see. It was truly a lost cause.

"Go and file a complaint," her mother suggested, but then sounded to take it back, "But no, don't listen to me. _I _don't control _your_ life anymore. _You_ can handle it on your _own, _I'm sure."

"Things just don't work that way," said Sandra, making it a point to try to pretend she didn't hear the words her mother spoke. While she knew they were only a threat and her mother would be there for her did it _really_come down to it, but it was still her mother. The woman who raised her for a good chunk of her life could say that sort of thing. Sandra shook her head. She couldn't blame her mother, and besides, she would probably be the same way when she got older and had her own children.

_Me being a mum, _Sandra thought, _that will be the day. _It wasn't that she had anything against children or the idea at all, it was just that in her current position she didn't feel cut out for it. There was so much involved in it. You had to be in a stable marriage, have a well off paying job, be able to teach discipline, have cleaning and cooking abilities, be prepared for schooling of some sort, and be able to let go of your child when it was time for them to go off to repeat this process for themselves. It was all too much for her right now, but when she was older and ready, it would definitely be an option. She knew it would change her life more than just moving out ever could. Having a little one of her very own to take care of would bring joy to her life. It would still be scary, but she couldn't wait to be a mother.

Nothing like her own though.

Sandra had nothing else really to say. She said her goodbyes, hung up the phone and finished putting away her groceries. A veil of unbreakable silence covered the whole house. Looking over it, Sandra had a longing feeling in the pit of her stomach. The empty second floor, accompanied with not being acquainted with anyone else in the building, made her have a sudden need for a companion. Just someone pleasant that she had enough in common with and that she could have a nice conversation with in the comfort and warmth of her (or their) home.

She accepted that she need somebody. It would be hard going through all of this without anyone. If only she could share this little place with someone special. Oh be quiet, Sandra scolded herself, _Don't go and become some sort of hopeless romantic right now. _She couldn't fall into that attitude while she was so busy worrying about other important things. _Still, it would be nice...  
><em>  
>She shook her head, telling herself she need to get out and meet people more often.<p>

She missed the boys. There excitement and natural playful nature was a pick me up that she could really use right about now. A bit of fun in the addition to wonderful music could turn this day (and bad begriming to the week) completely around. But in reality that would have to wait. Sandra didn't know where they were today, and in addition to that they were probably busy anyway. She would have to stick to the only way she could possibly be 'with' them.

Strolling over to the long bookshelf in the living room she pulled an album off of the stack that she owned. She ran her fingers slowly over the four faces on the cover, the same as she always did, and set it to play for the rest of the evening as she fell asleep in the loveseat next to the player.

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><p><em>There we go guys. Some more background for Sandra, with family issues, because everyone fanfiction has those. No Beatles again and I feel terrible about it... Please don't hurt me... This is a Beatles fanfiction, so I'm <strong>promising <strong>they will be in every chapter until the end starting next chappy. Then you will all me happy and we will get romance! You read me write: romance! Heehee 'cause that's what all of us screaming fangirls like, right? Yep, it is. (Sorry any male readers out there, even though I don't think you exist haha.) _

_Alright, I'll just shut up now, but reviews please? 3_

_You all stay classy now~_


	10. Saw Her Standing There

_Long time no update and I am so sorry! School has been murder and it's just hard to make time for writing when you've got tests, projects, and all that stress that comes with it. I'm sure you guys understand though. Also, George's birthday was yesterday (which kind of makes this chapter really off but still.) And I kind of have no idea what else to write up here sooooo Happy reading!~_

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

**Saw Her Standing There**

This was any but the average morning for Sandra. She was excited from the moment she woke up, and now that the door had made the oh-so familiar sound of rhythmic knocking, she was even more antsy. She was dressed in some of her best clothes. Not exactly a formal Sunday dress, but an elegant yet colorfully striped one that she had picked up just for this occasion. She rushed for the door, anticipating her birthday treat (even if that day was actually the Wednesday earlier that week.) Opening the door, four smiling faces greeted her. It seemed like forever since she saw them last, even if it was hardly a month.

In all the time since she first met them, Sandra mused, they must have only had one hair cut at the most. It had gotten longer on each of them, covering their ear and their bangs were now hanging down, almost touching the tops of their eyes. They dressed in usually performance suits and ties. While they were growing up, just like she was, some things were never going to change.

"All ready for the show?" asked Ringo, scooting back so that Sandra could get out of the house and lock the door behind her.

"As I'll ever be," she laughed, pocketing the keys and following John and Paul back down the set of stairs and out of the building. The weather outside was extremely nice. The little garden at the home across the street was finally blooming with lovely pinks and yellows. It looked like a quaint Easter scene, only a little late. It reminded her of the house that she saw when she first came to London, with all of the ivy that was growing on the fence, maybe even prettier. One day she would make it a point to have a place like that.

Prior to today, Sandra had written the four boys a letter with her new address and flat number. Luckily, they received it and wrote back saying they had a surprise for her when they were going to see her next, around her birthday. She felt guilty, being treated to a trip out without ever getting one of them a gift of some sort. Not that she was complaining though. She would just have to return the favor some day.

Sandra was now back into the same black car she had traveled in before, but this time there was no Mal or Brian and it was Ringo driving. The girl got in the passenger's side with the other three in the back. _Maybe we can walk next time, _she thought, _with the nice weather and all._ Her idea was struck down by the image of girls and press chasing down the street after the five of them.

"So when are your guy's birthdays?" she asked, looking at each of them from her seat. Now that she thought about it, would she actually be able to remember all of those dates anyway? John was the first to speak up.

"Well George's was three months ago," he said, then looked to Paul in the front, "His is next month. Ringo's is in July and mine's in October."

"I guess your mum wanted to save the best for last then," Sandra mused, hoping to make him happy. Based on the history of it, however Sandra would first act towards John in the car ride would affect his attitude towards her for the rest of the night. She had decided a while ago that her relationship with John needed to improve. Something made him significantly more difficult to connect with. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't ordinary enought to read like a book like some people were. Or maybe it was because they already had conflicting personalities. Maybe she just wasn't meant to get along with him, but she would kill him with kindness if it became the only option.

A smirk played on John's lips which was good enough for Sandra. She turned to another idea she had to joke around with.

"So, Georgie-boy is twenty-one now, huh?" she asked, trying not to smile more than expected. The young man in question just nodded and took a drag off of his cigarette. Sandra caught some of the other boys' eyes then joked, "You boys are going to be making him pay for drinks from now on, aren't you?" There was laughter from three of the four. She definitely took that as a yes. Eventually, George gave in and chuckled.

In all honestly though, after looking him over, Sandra could tell that if any one of them was growing up, it was George. His hair had grown out and covered most of his particularly thick eyebrows and the ears that stuck out of his head. She found herself picking out other little things like his incredibly clear skin and the way his lips held the cigarette on his mouth. She looked away quickly, trying to forget how handsome he had become over the time of not seeing him. Or maybe he had always looked just like that but she was just now noticing.

Being three years older than someone and spending time with them wasn't too weird, was it? It couldn't be. Sandra wondered if George ever questioned being with someone three years older than him. Not to forget Ringo and John, who were the same as she was. _Poor Paul; the middle child never gets any attention_. She inwardly laughed.

It didn't take long until Sandra was sneaking into the auditorium from a side door. When inside, Sandra found herself in an overabundance of people. Nearly every row from the front up to the balcony seats held a girl (or occasional boy) that was chattering up a storm with the person next to them. Sandra went right were she was directed to, into one of the few empty seats in the front row. She was going to be able to see the performance closer than she could ever imagine. Sure, she had seen them in the recording studio, but this was a real live concert. The energy, the volume, the spirit. There was interaction with the crowd, and little differences in the sound of their voices because of it being live instead of recorded. All of these things would be out there for everyone to see and hear.

There was a woman sitting to Sandra's right, near the alile. She sat with her legs crossed and hands neatly in her lap with her dark eyes looking around absentmindedly from the stage to the people around her. Her hair looked much more like a flat out yellow than a natural blond. _Dyes it maybe, _figured Sandra. She was still very beautiful and poised sitting there. Sandra felt bad, like she should know this unspeaking woman, ever though she had no idea who it was. Well, she had one idea and some gut instinct told it was right. She asked, "Are you Cynthia?"

"Yes," the woman said, then having a wave of realization coated her face, "You must be Sandra. John told me I should be looking out for you." She had a smile on her pink lips. She and Sandra properly shook hands, and then proceeded to have small talk about the little things in life. They were leaning in close to each other, to hear the other over the roar of the audience.

"They should be on any minute now," said Cynthia and then, as if by magic, the men from the sound crew vanished from the stage. A man in a suit stood in front of the curtain and gave an introduction; the curtains behind him slowly began to separate. All hell broke loose even when it was just four instruments without people using them. In a second, the four boys sprinted out onto the stage, waving to the audience as a whole. Ringo positioned himself behind the drum kit while the other three pulled the guitar straps over their shoulders. Without a word the first chord rang out and the girls screamed again. Sandra went along with it for the fun but tried to control herself when she saw Cynthia only lightly clapping.

"Thank you," repeated Paul after the introduction set of songs. He tried to calm down the girls gently, and it barley worked. Behind him, the other boys were adjusting their instruments ever so slightly. He went on after the crowd finally died down, "Thank you so much for coming out to see us everyone!" More cheers. "We've got a couple of new songs for you today and we want to know what you think. John and I have been working on some new ones for our new LP." At this moment, John gave a huge, cheeky grin to the audience and wiggled his fingers in a wave.

"Now how about a song?" Paul's question, obvious rhetorical, was met with joyous screams. The four took their positions and began by playing some of the songs off of their older albums. Sandra quietly sang along and tapped her foot to the beat. She and Cynthia clapped at the end of each tune and made little comments about the boys' appearances or mannerisms; like how Paul was constantly changing the foot he was tapping, or how Ringo's bobbing head went at a speed completely different from what they were playing. There was more cheering and Paul once more took the microphone.

"Does everybody here know about that movie deal we've got ourselves?" he asked, to be answered with a majority of yes's, even though Sandra could distinctly hear George answer into the microphone, "No."

"Well John and I wrote this one for our good friend George here," Paul went on, opening his arms to direct attention over to the youngest Beatle. George, in turn, moseyed closer to the microphone and plucked a few sour notes before speaking.

"Thank you for that very nice intro there Paul," said George, his voice sounding naturally deadpan. He stared out into the sea of people, waving directly at a couple girls who screamed his name, and then continued, "And now, for the first time in front of living people, is this song. Clap along and all that good stuff if you feel it." He looked back to the other boys to make sure they were ready then gave a soft count off.

A cresiondo of music arose as an intro then the words played right into the melody. _'Before this dance is through, I think I'll love you too. I'm so happy when you dance with me.'_ Some kind of memory was coming back to Sandra while she was following the words. The song was brand new though, and she was pretty sure none of them had ever just casually played the tune out in front of her. _'If somebody tries to take my place, let's pretty we just can't see his face.'_ She knew what it was! That night the five of them went out dancing at that club. Some man tried to cut in during her dance and she made it a point to ignore him. Was there any chance this new song was connected to that night?

"He keeps looking at you," Cynthia leaned over and commented. She had her mouth behind her hand and was pointing up at George while keeping her other hand low to the seat. Sandra, whose eyes had randomly been fixated on the symbol on Ringo's drum set, looked up to George. His eyes darted away from her's the second she did this. He was looking at her!

"Are you sure?" Sandra said back, trying to deny the fact that he was looking and ignoring the feeling that her face was becoming flushed. They brought me here for my birthday, of course someone's going to be looking at me to make sure I'm having a good time.

"Pretty sure," mused Cynthia, "Are you and him together?" Again with that question, thought Sandra.

"No, we're just," she hesitated. She didn't mean to, but her mouth just stopped working. The last few chords were played and Sandra found herself, "friends."

Any number of Sandra's old friends would have gawked out how she stuttered, but Cynthia didn't say a single word. There was still a small smile on her lips as she looked back to the stage and clapped, but she didn't carry on with words. That won her a huge amount of points in Sandra's book.

After two more unrecognizable yet wonderful songs, the concert was over. Sandra rose with everyone else to give them a standing ovation. Girls all around were crying hysterics once more and yelling the names of the different Beatles. Sandra laughed to Cynthia and shouted, "Ringo!" recalling how he was he so called favorite. He was blowing kisses off of his hands to the crowd and the other boys just waved. They left the guitars and ran off the stage, the curtains closing behind them. One by one, the audience members filed out the back of the theater.

"I should probably get going," announced Cynthia when only few people were left here and there. "I promised I would take Julian off of my mother's hands before it got to late."

"Julian is...?" asked Sandra blankly, not knowing who that was and waiting for Cynthia to fill in the blanks.

Cynthia laughed, "Oh, my son, sorry." She held out her hand to Sandra, "It's been a pleasure meeting you. Maybe we'll meet up again sometime?"

"I sure hope so!" replied Sandra. "Wonderful meeting you Cynthia."

"Call me Cyn," she smiled as she headed for the back exit to find a cab ride home. Sandra waited a bit longer until all but one group of people remained and then darted for the side door. Once more she found her way to another little dressing room. Mal was lingering outside one of the rooms, so it was a no brainer which one they were in. She waved at him and went on in as he opened the door, peaking his head in first to make sure they were suitable. She greeted the four chipperly, this time not afraid at all to hand out a few hugs.

"You guys are too amazing!" Sandra raved, "I can't believe you got me a seat in the front row! Well-okay-I guess I can believe it, but still! That was definitely the best birthday gift I could ever imagine!" She had done her best to control herself during the performance, but she was done with that now. Her expression was as bright as the sun and the stars combined. She couldn't help but throw her arms around their necks again while in a fit of giggles. "If there is _any _way I can repay you guys, just say the word."

"Don't worry about that, love," said Ringo, "It was our treat."

Every girl's dream was playing out right before her eyes. At one point it was Sandra's dream as well, but now it was her reality. They were four boys that Sandraknew she cared about so much and she knew that they cared about her. With all that happened and was happening still, she really couldn't ask for a better group of friends. She decided to insist, "No, no, this was too much!"

"If you're insisting," stated John, sneakily raising an eyebrow. While they were sweet and great friends, Sandra thought, they were still men.

"Never mind," Sandra casually said, averting her eyes from him. She saw his wicked smile shrink when she was turning away. A few moments and a bit of an odd feeling later, she turned back around only to find John's face a few inches away from her's. She did a high pitched squeak then started lightly slapping him in the arm to get him away. He only continued to cackle and before she knew it, Sandra felt the hard collision of her stomach landing on John's shoulder.

"Put me down!" Sandra demanded, beating her hands on his back, feeling like a hunted animal. She was trying to seem genuinely angry with a frown, but that could easily be seen through like glass. She tried again, "John, come on! Everyone's going to be able to see up my dress! Set me down!" She regretted saying that.

"Look," exclaimed Paul, "you can see her knickers!" Everyone was laughing, except for Sandra. She didn't know if he was lying or telling the truth. He was standing close to her rear though.

"What color are they?" she mocked, sounding sure of herself. She shrieked again when she felt someone behind her pulling at the end of her dress. She tried to sit up and swat them away though she stopped when she figured she looked like a fish flopping around on land.

"Blue," Ringo reported, sounding pleased with himself.

Sandra grew silent and stopping moving all together. They were blue.

"Not as fun when they don't squirm," said John, finally setting Sandra down. She was in the middle of them crossing her arms.

"At least he didn't offer birthday spankings," Paul spoke up. John pretended to stroke a beard he didn't have as if he were deep in thought about the idea. Sandra cut him off before he could go any further.

"No way, no how," she said. This was a man with a wife and son, and he would sit here and have no trouble acting like a child himself. Did he still act like that at home? _Enough about John, _she told herself, going to sit down in the nearest chair. She was so glad that they were the only ones in the room for that whole fiasco. The boys pulled up chairs for themselves, near a corner in the back of the room. They carried on with talk, asking Sandra how she liked the new songs and informing her in detail about the movie they had been working on. She had only heard of it a bit at work, but the boys explained that they had been filming it for a while now and finished last month. The movie wouldn't be premiering until around July.

"Not ready to go home yet, are you?" asked Paul after a while of talking.

"Of course not," said Sandra, hoping he was genuinely asking and not that that was his nice way to say she _needed _to go home. Sandra noticed every one lighting up a cigarette and passing the lighter to the person beside them, to which Sandra took it upon herself to inform them like a teacher or a mother would, "That's terrible for your health."

"That means you don't want one?" figured Paul, an outreached hand offering over the pack. Sandra shook her head at him, not letting this be a repeated of giving in with the alcohol situation. She knew that the doctor's blamed Robert's pneumonia on his nasty lifelong habit of smoking. She didn't want to end up with something as life threatening as that anywhere down the road.

Paul retracted his hand, putting the pack away in his pocket. After just a while longer, Sandra found herself caught up in the plan to go out to a club once more. This building was much bigger than the last one, with brighter lighting and cleaner looking people. _But it's still a club_, Sandra told herself, _There'll be flirting and drinking and dancing. _A live band that she had never heard of before that was playing the kind of skiffle she had head of when she was quite young.

All of it seemed to be a very nice place, but when one random girl discovered the Beatles were here, all of the girls in the joint knew. Luckily, there was no screaming or attacks that were usually expected. The girls who were interested put on their flirtatious masks and almost tried to even seduce their selected target of the four. It mostly surprised Sandra to see that it worked, and now each of the boys had a girl (one of the more loosely dressed ones) dancing on in their arms. Sandra spent the first half an hour sitting by herself or dancing with a peroxide blond man who had introduced himself as 'Jimmy.'

With the night growing later, Paul had left with a girl he found and John had drunk himself into a fog. Sandra on a couple of occasions had to keep him from going a round (physically or verbally) with the barkeeper. As she sat, watching John carefully at a distance, someone else came up beside her.

"Care for a dance?" he asked, sounding confident in his request. Sandra couldn't help but smile up at him, taking the hand that he offered and being lead out onto the dance floor.

The fact that she would become exhausted or that the music was too fast for her liking didn't bother her. She didn't care that there would be seen by a huge amount of fans all around her. All that mattered right now was that she felt amazing dancing with George on, what was, the best birthday celebration she had ever had.

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><p><em>Lookit' all dat romance. No, I don't know, this is my first time writing a fic where that is adult romance situations and not just little teenage crushes, so bare with me here! Hope you enjoyed that and sorry for not having more to write down here, my brain currently isn't working...Let me know what you think with a review please?<em>

_Ciao~_


	11. A Hard Day's Night

_I'm SO SO SOOOO SORRY! ;u; I sort of lost interest in this story for a while there, and I hate how this chapter turned out even though I kept telling myself that I needed to get through writing this one so I can get on with the rest of the story! Please don't hate me guys, begging you OTL_**  
><strong>

_This chapter is just made of suck and if I get the chance I'll rewrite it, but at the moment I just want to get around to updating more regularly. So let's do this thing._

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

**A Hard Day's Night**

"Could I please have a few days off?" asked Sandra, sitting in front of her boss's desk. She needed these days desperately after promising she would be in attendance an the Beatles' movie premier. They had sprung this difficult request on her only a couple of weeks ago but she had only just gotten a chance to ask about it now. She hated that she was forced to put it off until the very last minute. Also, she was really hoping her boss wouldn't ask for an excuse.

"What do you need them for?" he asked, just as Sandra hoped he wouldn't. His heavy set body was sitting in a large leather chair in the tidy room. His tan skin contrasted greatly with the stark white walls. His skin tone was a perfect match to the rest of his family that could be seen in picture frames the were assorted on file cabinets behind him. Everything about this place reminded Sandra of the one time she was sent the headmaster's office when she was back in school. She stood in front of the desk, feeling like a soldier waiting stiffly in line for inspection. She knew she would have to do something that would get any army in severe trouble.

"I have to go take care of a sick family member," she lied, trying not to look her boss in the eye and fake an expression of sorrow, "My mother has fallen ill, and, the doctor's don't expect her to make it through the weekend," She looked up for only a second, to find the boss's stony expression just as cold as ever. She inwardly groaned, wondering why she couldn't have been born with the talent of the actress she had seen in movies.

"Hmm..." muttered Sandra's boss, rolling his chair to find the calendar on the wall behind him. He then turned back to his desk after running his stubby finger over the paper, picking up a handheld planner and flipping to the page he was looking for. He then said flat out, "No, I'll need you those days. Rick's wife is having her baby, so I'll need you to pick up the slack for him." There was no compassion in his voice, as though a supposed person on the verge of death meant nothing to him. A new life would mean more to him than loosing one. Or rather than that, work meant more to him than any form of life.

"I really need this," pleaded Sandra, "I won't ask for anymore off after this, just this weekend is all." Her boss didn't speak for an eternity and his face didn't move, not even for a small twitch that he sometimes couldn't help. He just stared harshly at the young woman before him. Sandra was getting irritated. Then, the irritation started to turn into anger.

"I'll need you here," he repeated, finally saying something, "It will mind you well to show up tomorrow, or you won't need to show up ever again." Saying that this upset Sandra was putting it lightly. She controlled herself enough only to hold her head high while sauntering out of the office and out the front door. She slammed her car door shut with her inside when she reached the parking lot and sat in silence in the driver's seat. She stayed put and frozen for quite a while, hidden from sight thanks to the rows of cars around her. She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing her bangs backwards and off of her forehead.

She screamed.

Sandra knew she wouldn't be coming back here ever again. This job was over with. She would have to search for a new one as soon as this weekend of frivolity was over. _Shit, _she thought, _I've got no job, going to have no money, could loose the house, all because of that stupid trip with them. _Was it really worth it? Possibly missing out on paying electric and gas bills, just to go on a little joy ride with the boys? Why did it have to be so soon? Why couldn't it have waited until _next _month? Couldn't she have said, "No, sorry, I'll have to work" instead of going and testing it, and failing?

She rested her head on top of the hard steering wheel. She felt dizzy from thinking so much. She couldn't stop questioning herself. She took a long breath and let it out as slow as possible. She knew, _Every single thing you do, every single day, is a choice. _She looked over the dashboard, her chin now resting on the wheel. _So how do I know if I made the right one?_

She decided to drive back home thinking of what advice other people would give her. Marian would tell her that the two of them could work together at the club, were she still residing in England. Robert would march back in there and demand the days off, in addition to a raise. Her mother, were they on good speaking terms, would comfort her daughter, saying soothing words of "Que sera, sera." Her brother Michael on the other hand would probably tell her to be tough and get over it. Sandra wondered what her father would have to say.

_It wasn't all that unfair, _Sandra thought to herself, _It was my decision to walk out. I could have stayed and went back to typing if I was really intent on keeping that job. _There were so many negetive things about working there when she focused on it. The hours had become quite unusual recently, she hated the constant gossipy topics she was assigned, the space was very cramped, the keys on the typewriters stuck, she and the other three women who worked there were treated worse than the majority of men, and the drive was much too far for her liking. Those were a fairly large amount of reasons for her to be slightly happy that she wouldn't have to return.

When she got home, Sandra put her keys away in a pottery cup by the door. She pulled her feet out of the heeled shoes she was wearing, shrinking a few inches. She knew that she was going to be stuck in them for a long time later on. She threw her purse onto the kitchen counter, not noticing how close it was to the edge and not bothering to pick it up after in fell onto the tile floor. She brought some food back to her room, sitting down on the bed gently in hopes not to spill any of the soup. The steam rose up, lightly fogging the glasses that she was wearing more and more often. She took them off and set them on the end table, noticing her vision instantly becoming less sharp.

A thin black dress was hanging on the back of a closet door. Sandra had memorized what it look like by now. It was simple yet elegant, or so she thought, knowing nothing about being the latter. When worn it would slightly cover her shoulders and had a modest neck line. On her legs it went just a bit past her knees. There were subtly accents of silver that made it even more lovely._ It's absolutely stunning,_ Sandra thought, but then her positive thoughts dropped once more, _but also a very pretty penny. _Given the current situation, she figured she'd have to return it sooner than later.

A small, white sweater would go over her shoulders when she wore it. She had some silver heels to wear, which she was sure she must have mastered walking in by now, even if it was painful. She debated wearing any access jewlery, but the woman at the store did tell her that either a sapphire necklace or earrings would bring out Sandra's eyes.

Sandra hung up the dress she had been spinning around with hack onto a hanger and put it onto the closet door again, high enough to where there was no chance of it touching the floor or anything else. She couldn't let anything happen to it. She had to look her very best for the premier. She'd be surrounded by stars and high class people, not just your average movie goers. Sandra herself didn't know if she would be better off trying to blend in with the civilians or the rich and famous. She could flat out introduce herself as a friend of the Beatles, or not speak a word to anyone. There they were again, choices.

The next three days passed with far too much anticipation. On Monday morning, Sandra dressed to her best. Her makeup was done as professionally as she could make it and hair was shinning, each wave or curly enunciated with boat loads of hairspray used to keep it in place. Her body was draped in the dress that she was waiting to be able to put on. An odd sight was her feet though. She wore an old pair of tennis shoes from the depths of her closet. She would be driving herself all the way there and did not feel that trying to press the accelerator or the brakes with two extra inches between them and her foot. It was simply a bad idea.

The drive was long and dull. There were no spectacular sights to take in. She had seen them all before, and even the places she hadn't seen reminded her of other places out there that looked quite similar. But after a bit she began to see the unusual harbors and the view of the sea, which told her that she had made it to her destination. The farther she got into the town, the more people she saw. They even were lining the streets at some places. Sandra thought she would be used to this, but this had to be the most people she had ever seen.

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><p>This room was full of people, much higher class than here. Sandra had even overheard that some of them were Lords and Ladies, and even the mayor was there. She felt it was nothing short of a miracle that she was sitting in one of the rows inside of the Odeon Cinema. She was so careful when she had found a place to park her car and had to show her invitation to people in charge multiple times. It was no wonder that they had to ask for her identification many of times. She wouldn't believe herself if she was in there positions.<p>

People chattered on all around the room while a man up on the stage played a medley of Beatles tunes on a piano. In a normal situation she would want to sing a long with the songs, but not right now. She was stiff, just waiting for the film to begin. That's all she could do. It was quite late so she wondered why it wasn't starting yet, or more importantly she wondered when the boys would be arriving. A row of seats near the front was completely unoccupied.

Just when Sandra began to fiddle with the very end of the shawl she was wearing, she heard clapping and looked around for the source of the commotion. People one by one were rising out of the seats in applause and just before the person in front of her did, she spotted the four Beatles walking in. She could feel a huge smile on her face and did just as everyone else did. John, Paul, George, and Ringo were dressed in very nice suits and took bows when they reached the front of the theater. The pianist continued to play, even if it couldn't be heard over the sound of the audience. The boys waved to the important people in the crowd, Ringo even blowing a kiss to everyone.

The lights dimmed when the boys took their seats. Everyone quieted and turned there attention to the screen at the head of the room. The pianist head yet to cease, even as the movie began, showing George falling onto the pavement and Ringo stumbling right over him. When the man finished his song he left the stage in a hurry, apparently not noticing what he had done.

Sandra carried on watching the movie in the darkness, laughing at any of the humorous moments (which there were many) and fawning over the new, beautiful songs. _They're all so handsome, _she commented in her head at various times throughout the film. The funny remarks they made throughout and their strapping good looks made it impossible for her not to say that. _Stop that, _she told herself, glad that if her face was turning red every time she thought things like that the darkness of the theater would hide it. But each time one of the boys flirted with another girl in the movie she couldn't help but think, _I wish at least one of them would treat me like that._

Even though she wanted all her focus to be on the film, it wasn't. Every once and a while she would look up the rows of seats at her boys. John sat on the end, leaning to the side with his head propped up and resting on his hand. Ringo sat up straight, everyone once and a while stretching his arms and finger out in front of him like he wanted to pop his fingers. George was hunched down in his seat. Sandra gave a tiny smile, thinking about how he probably wanted to put his long legs out on top of the seat in front of him. Paul had his body turned slightly, his arm on the back of his and John's seats.

When the movie was over, Sandra wanted to rush over and give them hugs and congratulate them and tell them thanks for having her and that the movie was so amazing that she wanted to watch it so many more times, but she couldn't. They were already busy shaking the hands of the important people. She would need to get home now. It would be another long, lonely drive that she wanted to get over with sooner than later.

She knew she would just have to wait to tell them that until another time.

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><p><em>Okay, sorry it wasn't up to the usual par everyone... Please don't stop reading though! It's going to get better, and oh yeah, prepare for some relationshipy stuff to begin next chapter! It's going to start getting serious! I have to little notes to address here and then I'll let you go-<em>

_1. I live in America. While I have done a but load of research for this story to work, there are going to be some things that are inaccurate. Whether it is things like geography or lifestyle, things are going to be different from where I live. I'm doing my best, but somethings (like Sandra** driving** from London to Liverpool) I'm not sure if anyone would actual do that because of the distance. No one has said anything about this, but it's just something that has been on my mind and I wanted to put it out there._

_2. And I think someone had commented on this, but the way that I'm writing this story isn't the usual day to day to day sort of things that happen in a lot of stories. This story is taking chunks out of the timeline of Sandra's life and focusing on them for every chapter. I'm doing this because I'm trying to make it more realistic, and in real life, building friendships and relationships doesn't just happen over night. It happens over weeks, months, and even years. It's just my writing style at the moment, and essentially that is how the plot is going to work._

_All right. That's enough rambling. Reviews for support, please? Everyone have a good day/evening/afternoon/night!~_


	12. Love You To

_I'm super sorry for it being so long since I've updated. This story sort of drifted away from my interests for long while and I have this issue where if I'm not obsessing over something, I don't have any interest any it. It's like a light switch, on or off, not a dimmer knob. Please. Just read and be happy. It's probably not up to the usual par and there's probably grammarical mistakes, but I just wanted to get it uploaded as soon as possible. Just read it. Read it **now.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<br>Love You To**

Sandra was home now and had been for days with nothing to do. She had already gone out to look for a new place to work, but couldn't find any quality places that were hiring that she actually qualified for. She was afraid that if nothing came up soon she would have to resort to menial tasks like waitressing or being some sort of secretary at an office building. That was really all the jobs she had a knack for though. She didn't feel she had that many talents at least none that would do her good in the work force. She knew she would have to cope with whatever sort of work was available, unless she could spit out a well written book within a month, which she was sure that she couldn't. It would be two weeks before anymore bills arrive that required payment. She had that long to find herself another job or to go beg to get her old one back.

Begging was the last thing wanted to end up doing though. She had made a stand against that place, at least in her own mind, and she wasn't about to return to it. Finding the courage to quit was one of the bravest things she had done in a long time. Sandra didn't want to loose that.

The young woman felt that she needed to turn in at an early hour. She had another big day walking around London in search of employment tomorrow. She laid in bed for the longest time awake, tossing and turning back and forth. Sleep didn't come easily even though she strongly wished it would. Her body was heavy but her mind was racing with completely random thoughts. Nothing pertained to anything so there was a point that she thought she was dreaming, but her ability to quickly open her eyes with no resistance proved that wrong. She stared at the walls and then the ceiling, only seeing darkness that was the same as when her eyes were closed.

The complete silence was getting to her. The only noise that could occasionally be hear would come from a vehicle passing on the road outside. Sandra knew that after at least an hour had passed she was accomplishing by lying there. Sandra got up and walked out of her room, wandering past the bathroom, through the kitchen, and into the living room. She stood in the middle of the room, looking at each piece of furniture individually and almost studying them for every detail before moving onto the next. She found it to be very empty, for lack of a better word. Maybe not physically, but metaphorically. It was just her and her things in this apartment.

She instantly felt lonely.

She was missing her family and friends in her empty home. No, home wasn't the right word. A home had both family and friends. A home didn't qualify as just wherever you lived. She wished that Marian wasn't gone away leading her own life so that they she could liven up the flat. She wished for the impossible of living in a huge mansion with the Beatles and herself all under one roof. Hell, it might have just been the tiredness talking, but at this moment Sandra would have been okay with her mother being here or her being back home. _Yep, _she told herself, _it's definitely the sleep talking._

Getting out of her head, Sandra took a seat on the chair she was intently staring at. She pulled the phone close to her and rummage through a basket of knickknacks to find the address book that was in it. She wanted to talk to someone. No, she _needed _to talk to someone. She wanted human contact and to rant about what was going on in her life to a person and not just a notebook that couldn't talk back or give her advice. She took a breath and closed her eyes. She would let fate or whatever divine being out there decide who she received this help from. She opened the small, brown book to a random page and pressed her finger down into it.

Eyes gazed down onto the crisp page that held a printed letter 'S' at the top. Beneath were several light blue lines with names written in black ink or slightly smudged pencil lead. Underneath an _Anna Salter _and a _Verbena Sparrow _sat Sandra's finger, pointing out an all too familiar _Richard Starkey. _She couldn't help but give a little smile at reading his name. But that smile gradually vanished as she picked up the phone to dial the number (she had received a personal one from all of the boys at an early occasion) and having it ring to many times to count before she gave up on it. _  
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Some voice in her head told her to try again, and not feeling she had anything to loose from it, she did. The book was once more closed. Sandra took a second to look up at the ceiling and then open the book again. She unknowingly grinned when reading the first name on the page, _George Harrison. _Something made her feel like that she _would not _have been able to call him of all people if it was just out of the blue instead of this system she had came up with. She was beginning to question herself about the idea already. She argued with herself, _What if it's too late to be calling? No, it's half past nine, most people are awake still. What if he doesn't want to talk to me? Then he'll excuse himself politely. What if he's not even there to answer? Then you won't have to worry about him not wanting to talk to you._

It seemed that the second voice had won. Sandra dialed the number on her red rotary dial and fiddled with the cord nervously while it ringed. She hated how she was feeling so nervous about talking to George while calling Ringo seemed to be so simple. Maybe it was that she knew that in person Ringo was the easiest to talk to, while George was also when talking to him she wanted him to do the talking. He was intriguing and always surprised her with his humorous comments that were more expected to come out of John. She wished to know more about him rather than spilling her problems onto him. He had answered yet. She still had a chance to hang up before she got herself into anything.

"Hello?" questioned the droll voice on the other end.

As expected, Paul picked Sandra up around four in the evening the next day. Paul told her about how he, Ringo, George, and John had all been able to buy their own homes with some help from their accountant. He also told her about how Brain had wanted them all to have houses across from each other and one for himself near by but the four went with the homes they felt comfortable with. While John, George, and Ringo's were all roughly close to each other, Paul's was the farthest away, but also closest to Sandra.

They drove out of the packed city and into the suburbs.

When the car finally pulled into the gravel driveway, Sandra could see the clean new house and the flourishing, green yard that surrounded it. The house was long and bungalow style. It was made of whites and tans, with a walkway of cement surrounding it almost like a moat.

Sandra stepped out of the vehicle, breathing in the air that was much better quality than the city air she was now accustomed to breathing. She could already see the figures that were standing beside the wall nearest the door. Pulling her glasses out of the purse she brought with her and putting them on, she could see much better, even if there was a smudge in the upper right hand corner of one of the lenses.

John stood beside Cynthia, whom Sandra recognized from the concert, talking to George who was leaning with his back against the wall. Ringo was standing beside them as well with his arm around the shoulders of an almost black haired girl. Cynthia was holding a small child in her arms, who Sandra could only assume was her and John's son, Julian. The group turned around to face Paul and Sandra when the two began walking up to the house, the crackling sounds of gravel moving every time they each took a step.

There was a small breeze around the house and in the trees causing Sandra's hair to be pushed in the wrong direction, all in front of her face. She pushed it out of her eyes, keeping her hand at her forehead pretending to be blocking out the sun. The bright, hot weather was unusual. Sandra was wearing shorts for the first time all year. Normally, she would have just worn a slightly shorter dress or skirt but she knew that she would be working today.

Paul reached the group before Sandra, and when he did he took Julian out of his mother's arms. Both of the boys' faces lit up. Paul entertained the child with silly faces and smiles where Julian replied with no words but with laughs and dark eyes that were identical to his father glowing with happiness. Sandra observed with interest, not getting in the middle of it though. There was no way could top Paul's cute performance. She figure that she would end up holding or not playing with Julian correctly if she tried. She really didn't want to go upsetting John or Cynthia. And besides, Paul looked overjoyed and she didn't want to spoil that for him.

"Hello," Ringo greeted the two, turning with his arm still draped over the dark haired girl. She was quite young looking and wore a lot of dark makeup around her eyes. Ringo introduced, "This is Maureen."

"You can call me Mo."

"And that's," he gestured to the only blond, "is Cyn."

"Yeah, I've met Cynthia once before," said Sandra, smiling over at her female friend. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mo." Sandra went on to introduce herself and carry on with random talk. Maureen reminded Sandra of Marian. Maureen had some of the same physical attributes and was also the more talkative one. Cyn held a sophistication about her while Mo acted more like the boy's, growing up in the not so well mannered neighborhoods. Mo kept the conversation between the women going, whether there was something to say or not. She would dote on Ringo in and out as well when there was nothing else to be said.

"Are you and Ringo together?" Sandra spit out, just to make sure. She didn't want to go assuming things, even if it wasn't her business.

"Yep," said Maureen, being confident but blushing like a school girl. "And you and Paul?"

"Oh no," replied Sandra, shaking her head, "he just happened to be close enough to hitch a ride with." She laughed. "If it weren't for him I'd still be standing on the side of the road with my thumb up in the air."

"Ready to get messy, ladies?" Paul spoke up from the group of men. He still held Julian, supporting the child's back with his hand.

"As ready as we'll ever be," said Sandra after seeing the other girls nod in approval. She clapped her hands together in front of her, though it made very little noise, and looked to George. "Where should we start?"

The first thing that George wanted done was to add some greenery to the home. Shovels began to break the soft ground with hardly any effort. Piles of the damp dirt grew beside the neatly arranged holes. Slowly but surely the plants were removed from their plastic pots and were buried in the specific places that were excavated just for them. The women arranged dainty flowers of all colors and the men lifted the makings of bushes and trees into their spots. The home was furnished with all manner of foliage that it had never seen before and all the workers were covered in a layer of dirk that they were unfamiliar with.

Though it felt like forever, planting had only taken a few hours off the day. The rest would be left to less physical yet more time consuming job of painting. A break in the middle was taken for lunch, which Paul fixed and odd combination of jam sandwiches and small salads with Cynthia's help.

George was thoroughly prepared for every task at hand that day, Sandra noted. He had several large buckets of eggshell colored paint and multiple cans of paints of random colors of the rainbow. He had several rollers to do the main coat and then many smaller, handheld brushes.

John appointed himself supervisor after his work with planting, letting Paul and George tackled the sides of the house, arms moving up and down, guiding the rollers. Sandra couldn't help glancing out of the corner of her eye at them in between painting the shutters. She saw their bodies like she wasn't used to seeing them, in thin t-shirts and fitting jeans, not covering up every inch like the suits would. Her eyes continued to linger to George's arms, seeing the muscles tense up with every move. His chest rose and fell at a quickened pace.

Unexpectedly, the winds began to pick up and the sky faded to a shade of grey. Large clouds were no hesitant about rolling in and covering up the sun. Everyone put a halt on their work, knowing that an uncalled for storm was quickly approaching. They rushed to bring all of the paints and tools inside so that they would not get ruined by the rain. Lightning flashed brightly on the horizon and muffled thunder could be heard by all in the distance.

"We best be off," said Maureen to Ringo. Everyone had made there way in doors and were now sitting around the living room, the sky outside mimicking night. Ringo agreed, they said their goodbye's, and left for their car. John and Cynthia decided to follow a few minutes later when the rain began to drizzle but then turned to pouring when they stepped outside. Sandra could see the small family running to their vehicle and getting drenched in the process.

"Do you need any help indoors?" Sandra asked George, trying to be of any service that she could before having to leave. She was seated on an oddly textured chair off to the side of the living room. George sat on the end of the couch near her while Paul was stepping out of the kitchen, finishing off a drink he had poured for himself.

"The outside was the only thing really," said George, looking to Sandra. His gaze lingered longer than the young woman expected and the right corner of his lips seemed to naturally curl up. Even though he had given a short answer, Sandra could see that he still had words to say and things on his mind from the furrowed brows he gave. He eventually looked to Paul, but then back to Sandra, saying, "Thank you, both."

"It's all I can do to help a friend," replied Paul with a smile, to which Sandra nodded in agreement. He put his glass on the counter and strode out into the middle of the living room. He spoke up, "Now, Sandra my dear, we should probably get going too. I've got to stop by Brian's house on the way back and ask him a thing or two, hope you don't mind." Before Sandra had the chance to reply, George cut in.

"I can take her back so you don't have to rush with Bri," he said, standing up beside Paul. Sandra felt small in her deep chair. She just needed a ride, and though being honest she didn't _really _want to sit in Paul's car while he discussed business with Mr. Epstein, she didn't want to inconvenience George either. Though, at the moment she wanted to get more time to spend with him.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Paul asked George. George assured him that it was fine and Sandra said that she didn't mind. They would wait out the rain and then leave later. Sandra slipped off her shoes to get more comfortable as Paul his shoes back on, getting ready to leave. He gave a smile, said his goodbyes, and then dashed out into the heavy rain.

"Care for some dinner?" George offered, looking down at Sandra from in front of her claimed chair. Sandra glanced at the clock behind him, seeing that it was about time to eat yet again and noting how time had seemed to have flown. Sandra nodded and took his hands that were helping to pull her up.

"You sure are strong," joked Sandra absentmindedly.

"Maybe compared to Ringo," mused George, leading Sandra into the kitchen. "You're just not much effort to lift."

"Thank you," said Sandra, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. The kitchen looked extremely new and unused, with shiny counters and appliances. She looked to George, who looked slightly out of place. "Why don't you go sit and I can try to fix you something," she offered, trying to find a way to do something nice for George in return for him taking her home later on. She looked in the cabinets before he could answer, looking for something that the both of them would enjoy and that she could actually prepare well.

"Nah, you don't need ta' do that," spoke George. Sandra could hear him moving closer to her and then she felt his hand on top of hers, pulling it down from the open cabinet's wooden handle. His hand was rough, Sandra assumed from the callouses created from plucking the string on his guitar all these years. He turned her around to face him, saying, "You really don't need to do something like that." Sandra couldn't hear his words though. Her mind was to preoccupied with the fact that only a few inches separated their bodies. She tried to distract herself by listening to his voice but it meant nothing when her attention moved to his lips that were just as close. She couldn't move her gaze, thinking about how much this man meant to her with his charm, his humor, and his music.

She did something drastic. Something that could change everything. But something that she had imagined doing several times before.

She reached up on the tips of her toes, placing her lips softly on George's if only for a split second. It felt like a bomb had just went off inside of her chest, sending chills to the ends of her fingers. She recoiled, clearing her throat and saying a small "sorry," not wanting to look up to see George's reaction to her impulse.

But she had no time to find a reaction of her own when she felt fingers lifting her chip up and George's lips falling onto her own. The kiss started softly and then accelerated, bringing back the same sparks she felt only a few moment prior. She could feel George's smirk when she kissed him back and held onto his hand once more. The rush of feelings that normally swamped her brain was disappearing, and in flooded a stream of pure happiness. It was not entirely to long before she was led back into the living room and she and George were lying naturally on the couch beside each other. They quickly become unafraid to explore each others' bodies.

This was the last thing Sandra expected to happen, but if she said she wasn't enjoying every bit of it she would have been lying. She had a good feeling, as the thunder clashed on in the background, that she wouldn't be needing that ride home after all.

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><p><em>Well... that escalated quickly... Please forgive me, I have no clue how to right physical romance in the slightest. Hopefully leaving out the detailed smut doesn't upset anyone (trust me, you would have been disappointed with my attempt to write it haha). BUT HEY! This is the moment you've all been waiting for, right?! We've got a definite love interest going on here and that means more fluff to come, but along with that some twists and turns along the way. I know, I know, but I've got to keep your interest somehow.<em>

_Next chapter, soon(?) It'll be a short one though, just warning. Now couldn't you leave me some reviews please, just to show that some of you are still with me after this hiatus? _

_Okay, get outta' here. _


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